r- 


BERKELEY 

GENERAL 
LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY    OF 
CALIFORNIA 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 


THE  LOVERS  OF 
THE    WOODS 


WILLIAM  H.  BOARDMAN 


NEW  YORK 

McCLURE,  PHILLIPS  ^  CO. 
MCMI 


Copyright,  igoi,  by 
MCCLURE,  PHILLIPS  £f  Co. 


UNIVERSITY    PRESS    .     JOHN    WILSON 
AND     SON      •     CAMBRIDGE,     U.   S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION v 

LOST 3 

CHILDREN  OF  THE  STREAM 19 

A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 39 

THE  Two  LONS 64 

THE  PRAIRIE  BOY 91 

COLONEL  WARREN 115 

GEORGE'S  MEMORY .  139 

A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS 164 

JOHN'S  CAKES .     .  186 

THE  MINISTER 208 

"HE  CAME  UNTO  His  OWN".      ....  230 


M8427G9 


INTRODUCTION 

WOODCRAFT  is  a  like  art  in  all  the 
forests  from  Canada  to  either  coast. 
The  only  important  differences  are 
in  the  ways  of  transportation.  We  go  to  the 
woods  to  do  with  our  own  hands  those  things 
which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  have  done 
for  us,  and  to  wait  upon  ourselves,  sometimes, 
just  enough  to  see  how  it  seems.  It  is  an  es- 
sential part  of  the  pleasure  of  catching  trout  to 
feel  that  we  are  by  our  own  labor  earning  food. 
We  sleep  without  complaining  on  the  beds  that 
we  have  made,and  sometimes  try  to  eat  the  food 
that  we  have  cooked.  We  taste,  somewhat 
daintily,  the  ameliorated  hardships  of  primitive 
living  and,  knowing  our  own  shortcomings,  we 
learn  forbearance. 

The  sportsman  who  takes  seriously  his  vaca- 
tion inthewoods  has  satisfactionin  learning  how 

v 


INTRODUCTION 

to  live  properly  and  hunt  and  fish  successfully. 
It  adds  to  his  self-respect  and  self-reliance  to 
know  how  to  cook  and  camp  and  pack  ;  to  use 
his  legs  and  boats  and  horses  ;  to  get  out  of 
trouble  and  to  keep  out  of  trouble.  While  ac- 
quiring these  accomplishments  he  has,  if  he  is 
a  good  man,  become  sated  with  killing.  He 
has  had  abundant  proof  of  his  skill  in  approach- 
ing game  and  in  shooting  straight,  of  knowl- 
edge offish  habits  and  handiness  in  taking  them, 
and  he  does  not  want  to  kill  anything  any  more 
unless  he  needs  it  in  his  business.  If  he  is  un- 
worthy he  keeps  on  killing ;  if  he  is  a  limited 
person  his  activities  end  and  he  sets  up  for  a 
sage  ;  but  if  he  is  wise  his  accomplishment  of 
being  able  to  use  his  eyes  is  set  to  nobler  pur- 
poses, and  he  learns  that  it  is  a  never-ending  joy 
to  win  acquaintance  with  the  timber  trees  and 
forest  shrubs  and  plants  ;  to  learn  how  the  ani- 
mals live  and  think;  to  know  well  and  under- 
stand the  splendid  simple  men  whom  a  lifetime 
in  the  woods  sometimes  produces  ;  and,  per- 
vi 


INTRODUCTION 

haps  best  of  all,  he  finds  the  pictures  in  the 
woods. 

The  sportsman  who  has  studied  this  higher 
woodcraft  pities,  and  writes  for  and  talks  for, 
his  over-worked  friend  whocomes  to  each  sum- 
mer solstice  longing  for  an  outing  and  aimlessly 
wavering  among  advertisements  and  sugges- 
tions. 

An  idle  vacation  is  not  the  best  rest  for  the  body 
or  for  the  mind.  It  is  a  poor  diversion,  this 
turning  from  a  full  life  to  an  empty  one,  and 
there  is  little  rest  in  it.  That  which  is  known 
to  some  engineers  as  the  "  fatigue  of  metals," 
a  supposed  loss  of  strength  due  to  often-re- 
peated small  strains  no  one  of  which  is  a  break- 
ing strain,  is  not  cured  by  a  disuse  of  the  metal. 
An  outing  needs  an  occupation,  a  change  of 
work.  It  need  not  be  strenuous,  but  it  should 
be  a  subject  for  diverting  thought  and  reading 
during  the  winter;  one  that  makes  the  vacation 
longed  for ;  that  strengthens  the  muscles  by  use 
and  stimulates  the  mind  with  daily  accessions 

vii 


INTRODUCTION 

of  knowledge.  A  changed  occupation  that 
brings  a  daily  appetite  and  has  a  daily  motive 
is  what  mostmen  need  to  help  them  rest,and  this 
the  Woods  always  yield  to  the  seeker  who 
comes  to  them  in  the  right  spirit  and  with  good 
guidance. 


viu 


THE     LOVERS 
OF  THE  WOODS 


THE     LOVERS 
OF   THE  WOODS 

LOST 

AT  the  edge  of  the  evening  Billy  Drew 
arrived.  Although  it  was  in  the  heart 
of  the  Adirondack  forest,  miles  away 
from  any  known  living  place  of  human  beings  ; 
although  he  came  into  camp  by  the  creek  val- 
ley where  no  trail  existed  ;  and  although  there 
was  no  food  in  his  small  pack-basket ;  never- 
theless he  came  to  the  camp-fire  with  a  stroll- 
ing gait  and  a  casual,  unconcerned  salute  which 
might  have  hid  from  a  less  expert  woodsman 
than  John  the  fact  that  he  had  been  very  much 
lost,  and  was  tired  and  hungry.  John  was 
cooking  a  supper  of  bacon,  trout,  and  tea.  It 
was  not  an  elaborate  bill  of  fare,  and  his  work- 
ing kit  was  a  two-quart  pail  and  a  frying-pan, 
but  the  quantities  were  enormous  and  the 
quality  the  best  in  the  world.  Everything  was 

3 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 

clean.  The  supper-table  was  the  leathery  sur- 
face of  the  inner  side  of  a  sheet  of  spruce  bark. 
The  room  was  ample,  limited  only  by  the  trees 
that  glowed  in  the  light  of  the  evening  fire. 
There  was  a  dainty  neatness  and  precision  in 
his  way  of  camp-fire  cooking.  Before  the  ba- 
con was  fully  done  it  had  been  taken  from  the 
frying-pan  and  transferred  to  a  tin  plate  set 
near  the  coals,  so  that  the  process  of  keeping 
it  hot  would  just  complete  its  cooking  by  the 
time  the  trout  were  ready  to  be  lifted  from 
the  same  frying-pan.  A  moment  before  this 
the  boiling  water  had  been  poured  on  the  tea 
and  these  three  converging  lines  of  supply  met 
at  a  point,  the  point  of  highest  efficiency  for 
gratifying  an  appetite. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  master,  and  Billy  ad- 
mired it  in  spite  of  its  deliberation.  He  was 
well-equipped  for  criticism  and  his  admiration 
was  a  tribute,  all  the  more  because  the  enforced 
waiting  for  enjoying  the  hospitality  that  had 
been  heartily  offered  to  him  was  an  agony.  It 
4 


LOST 

was  a  whole  day  since  he  had  eaten  his  last 
mouthful,  and  it  had  been  a  day  of  work  and 
anxiety  as  well  as  of  hunger.  He  had  nearly 
exhausted  his  stock  of  woods'  lore  in  trying 
to  orient  himself  and  find  a  way  out,  until  he 
tried  the  last  resort  and  doggedly  followed  a 
winding  creek  through  miles  of  alder  beds  and 
black-ash  swamps,  sure  of  only  one  thing,  that 
water  runs  down  hill  and  comes  to  where  peo- 
ple live.  His  whole  instinct  was  to  hide  his 
terrible  experience,  at  least  for  the  present, 
while  the  memory  of  it  was  a  bitter  mortifica- 
tion. Later,  perhaps,  it  would  be  a  story,  but 
now  he  was  ashamed  of  his  carelessness. 
The  realization  of  being  lost  comes  suddenly 
to  the  traveler  who  is  winning  his  way  gayly 
and  carelessly  through  the  woods.  An  ex- 
pected landmark  does  not  appear;  or  the  blazed 
line  is  lost ;  or  the  water  in  a  brook  is  found  to 
be  running  the  wrong  way  ;  or  the  northing  is 
lost.  There  is  an  overwhelming  paralysis  of 
the  thinking  powers  and  a  childish  impulse  to 

5 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

scream ;  a  feeling  that  there  is  not  a  moment 
to  spare,  of  suffocation,  as  if  one  were  under 
water  and  life  depended  on  getting  out  imme- 
diately. The  untrained  man  hurries.  His 
pack  is  suddenly  heavy  and  his  rifle  is  a  use- 
less toy.  He  is  afraid,  as  he  climbs  over  lo^s. 
through  windfalls,  swamps,  and  burnt  ground, 
to  turn  a  yard  from  what  he  imagines  to  be  a 
straight  line.  Nervous  tension  is  bad  for  the 
wind  and  he  is  soon  breathless.  Then  his  char- 
acter develops  :  the  weak  man  longs  for  help 
and  calls  for  it,  by  shooting  or  screaming  ;  the 
strong  man  grimly  resolves  to  help  himself,  to 
stop  and  sum  up  the  situation  with  all  the  in- 
formation he  has,  or  can  gather  by  close  obser- 
vation, and  then  go  slow  and  not  far. 
The  trained  woodsman  calmly  fills  his  pipe 
and  sits  down  to  think  about  it.  He  has  no 
anxiety  about  himself,  for  he  knows  that  he 
can  live  many  days  in  the  woods  with  only 
small  discomforts.  His  pride  may  be  touched 
or  he  may  be  missing  an  appointment,  or  caus- 
6 


LOST 

ing  needless  anxiety  to  others,  but  he  knows 
that  he  is  in  no  present  danger  and  does  not 
want  to  be  helped  out ;  his  whole  training  and 
habit  of  mind  lead  him  to  help  himself.  If 
he  needs  to  know  a  point-of-compass  before 
he  can  determine  his  direction,  he  can  wait  for 
it  —  for  the  stars  at  night,  or  for  'the  sun  next 
day  or  some  other  day.  Perhaps  he  will  idly 
try  for  it  by  studying  the  mosses  on  rocks  and 
hard-wood  trees,  but  this  is  for  a  diversion,  not 
for  a  reliance. 

Usually  he  does  not  need  to  know  his  north- 
ing, for  he  goes  by  the  "  lay  of  the  land,"  and 
he  has  not  taken  a  step  in  a  strange  country 
without  knowing  something  of  the  watershed. 
The  smallest  possible  amount  of  casual  or 
general  information  of  where  the  water  goes 
is  expanded  by  every  rod  that  he  travels.  He 
never  loses  faith  in  the  law  of  gravity.  It  is 
beautiful  to  tramp  with  a  woodsman  in  country 
that  is  new  to  him.  He  drinks  in  the  topog- 
raphy. He  is  like  a  debutante,  exhilarated  by 

7 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

new  acquaintances  and  glowing  with  inspira- 
tion from  new  friends,  but,  unlike  her,  he  is  not 
doomed  to  disappointment.  The  ridges  and 
valleys  stay.  They  are  faithful  to  the  end  and 
will  guide  him  when  he  is  lost. 
The  supper  rested  and  soothed  Billy.  He  re- 
membered now  that  through  the  long  days  of 
wandering  he  had  often  struggled  with  hyster- 
ical feelings  and  he  could  easily  understand 
how  insanity  comes  to  a  man  who  is  lost.  He 
wondered  if  either  John  or  the  pale  young 
sportsman  whom  John  was  guiding  suspected 
his  condition.  The  truth  was  that  after  John 
had  quietly  asked  him  one  question,  "  Come 
from  Horn  Lake  ? "  and  he  had  answered, 
"Yes,"  the  old  woodsman  had  guessed  out  the 
whole  story  and  could  have  told  it  with  reason- 
able accuracy. 

The  simple  camp-kit  was  cleaned  and  stowed 
and  the  night  fire  was  lighted.  John  disap- 
peared in  the  back  end  of  the  low  bark  camp 
and  returned  with  a  blanket  which  he  dropped 
8 


LOST 

in  a  half  careless,  half  motherly  fashion  on  the 
pale  young  man's  shoulders. 
"  I  guess,  Mr.  Hardy,  you  '11  do  better  to  set 
on  this  log  where  the  smoke  won't  reach  you." 
The  young  man  moved  and  established  him- 
self comfortably,  and  at  the  same  time  noted 
that  the  guest  was  happier.  He  was  mellowed 
by  his  pipe  and  some  borrowed  tobacco.  He 
was  content.  Absolute  comfort  for  body  and 
mind  is  perhaps  not  the  keenest  enjoyment, 
but  it  is  near  it,  it  is  worth  working  for,  and  it 
can  be  had  in  the  woods.  It  is  not  simply  a 
comparative  condition,  a  relief  from  misery,  or 
a  measurement  of  the  distance  from  discom- 
fort. With  a  conscience  at  ease,  the  appetites 
gratified,  the  senses  charmed  by  the  beauty  of 
the  woods,  and  with  an  inspiring  conscious- 
ness that  there  are  lots  of  things  to  do,  the 
healthy  woodsman  can  sit  on  a  log  and  be  very 
happy  and  have  comfort.  He  can  have  it  in 
rain  or  in  sunshine,  night  or  day.  "  Flannel  is 
flannel,  wet  or  dry,"  and  wet  clothes  are  not 

9 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

necessarily  uncomfortable,  although  they  be- 
come so  after  a  while. 

In  driving  logs  down  a  river  in  March,  a  crew 
of  thirty  men  are  in  and  out  of  the  cold  water 
during  the  day  and  sleep  in  wet  woollen  clothes 
many  nights  without  developing  a  case  of  rheu- 
matism or  of  any  other  sickness.  A  healthy, 
temperate  woodsman  does  not  become  rheu- 
matic, and  surely  a  common  belief  that  this 
disease  comes  from  pure  water  is  an  error. 
The  sportsman  does  not  get  it  from  wading  the 
stream  ;  the  temperate  log-drivers  and  lumber- 
men never  get  it ;  but  the  whiskey-drinker  that 
gets  drunk  and  lies  out,  has  rheumatism  and 
"  lays  it "  to  the  water. 

Comfort  needs  reasonably  good  health,  capable 
of  being  made  perfect  health  by  right  living, 
earnestness  of  purpose,  and  a  capacity  for  get- 
ting tired.  With  bones  that  ache  a  little,  not 
too  much,  a  little  added  knowledge  of  Nature's 
laws  as  a  result  of  the  day's  experience,  the  best 
food,  the  best  cooking,  a  safe  roof,  a  bright  fire, 
10 


LOST 

a  balsam-bough  bed,  and  a  partner  that  is  a 
lover  of  the  woods,  a  reasonable  man  is  con- 
tent. All  the  exquisite  refinements  and  amuse- 
ments of  the  most  highly  civilized  spot  on  earth 
can  do  no  more  for  him. 
Hardy  had  neither  seen  norread,as  John's  keen 
eyes  had  read,  the  manifest  signs  of  Billy's  late 
experience.  It  was  possibly  unconscious  cere- 
bration which  led  him  to  ask  : 
•"  Billy,  did  you  ever  get  lost  in  the  woods  ?  " 
"  Yes,  once,"  said  Billy,  cautiously.  "  It  was 
the  first  week  I  come  in.  Cy  Harmer  had  a 
contract  up  to  Wakely  Dam  and  he  left  word 
for  me.  His  wife  —  " 

Hardy  rather  unnecessarily  interrupted  at  this 
point  to  mention  that  he  was  acquainted  with 
Cy  Harmer. 

"  No,  you  don't  know  Cy.    He  ain't  round  here 
now.     You  know  Andy  Harmer,  his  brother- 
in-law,  and  Cy  has  n't  any  use  for  him.     Cy's 
wife  was  up  to  the  Dam  too." 
u  Hold  on  a  minute,  Billy.     Rather  peculiar, 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

is  n't  it,  that  these  two  men  had  the  same  name 
and  were  only  brothers-in-law  ?  " 
"  Seems  so,  yes.  The  bottom  fact  is  they  be- 
gun reg'lar  brothers  and  stayed  so  till  they 
both  knowed  the  Bascom  girls.  Sairey  was 
the  youngest.  She  was  likely  and  smart  and 
they  both  wanted  her.  Maria  was  sharp-faced 
and  red-headed,  but  somehow  she  stayed  in  the 
game  all  one  winter,  till  Andy  Harmer  drawed 
Sairey,  and  Cy,  jest  to  keep  from  bein'  laughed 
at,  took  up  with  Maria  and  tried  to  look  cheer- 
ful. He  felt  it  though,  and  'lowed  that  from 
that  day  he  would  n't  have  Andy  for  no  nearder 
'n  a  brother-in-law,  and  he  did  n't.  Maria  was  a 
good  worker  and  she  was  up  to  the  Dam,  doin' 
the  cookin',  when  I  come. 
"  I  got  there,  say  a  Wednesday,  and  worked  the 
ox-team  haulin'  in  hemlocks  for  squarin'  for  the 
flume  timbers,  till  come  Saturday  night.  Sun- 
day mornin'  we  fixed  up  a  little  and  turned  the 
cattle  loose  to  peck  and  rest  up  while  we  sot 
around.  There  cornea  sugar  snow  in  the  after- 

12 


LOST 

noon  and  we  built  a  fire  in  the  stove  and  sot 
there  till  Cy  went  out  to  see  to  the  cattle  and 
could  n't  find  'em.  It  was  good  trackin'  snow 
and  we  both  started  out.  We  follered  'em  and 
follered  'em  till,  'fore  we  knowed  it,  night  shet 
down  on  us  like  a  jack-knife. 
"  We  had  n't  noticed  where  we  were  goin'  ; 
had  n't  looked  at  a  thing  but  the  tracks,  and 
I  'm  a-tellin'  you,  young  gentleman,  that  is  a 
mighty  keerless  thing  to  do  in  these  woods. 
We  back  tracked  a  ways  till  we  come  to  a  creek, 
and  then  we  gave  it  up.  It  turned  off  cold,  and 
we  had  our  Sunday  clothes  on  and  no  blankets 
and  nothin'  to  eat.  Of  course  I  had  matches, 
and  we  whittled  some  kindlin'  off 'n  a  riven  pine 
and  got  some  dry  stuff  together  and  built  a  fire 
alongside  a  spruce  log  until  the  log  was  well 
a-goin',  and  let  me  tell  you,  young  gentleman, 
never  do  that  as  long  's  you  live.  Then  we  lay 
down  alongside  and  went  to  sleep.  When 
one  side  got  hot  and  the  other  side  cold,  we  'd 
half  wake  up  and  roll  over  and  warm  up  even. 

13 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

When  both  sides  got  cold  we  'd  naturally  in  our 
sleep  roll  a  little  nearder  the  log.  A  fired  spruce 
log  is  snappy.  Better  find  a  maple  if  you  ever 
have  to  lay  out.  We  woke  up  at  daylight,  stiff 
and  cold  and  hungry.  Our  Sunday  clothes  had 
a  thousand  holes  burned  in  'em.  They  looked 
like  gill  nets.  I  said  so  to  Cy  and  that  made 
him  think  of  fish,  an*  of  course  he  had  a  hook 
and  line  in  his  pocket,  an'  he  went  to  the  creek 
and  ketched  a  mess  of  trout. 
"  Now  Cy  always  was  peculiar  about  trout. 
He  could  n't  eat  'em  no  way  except  fried.  I 
tried  to  argue  him  into  saying  biled  would  do, 
'cause  of  course  I  had  no  grease  to  fry  'em  in  ; 
but  he  would  n't  hev  it ;  said  he  spleened  against 
anything  but  fried.  So  I  just  gave  up  to  him 
and  fried  'em  —  in  water.  I  told  him  I  'd  done 
it  just  to  humor  him,  and  he  seemed  satisfied, 
but  he  'lowed  afterward  to  Maria  that,  as  he 
looked  back,  they  seemed  to  taste  for  all  the 
world  as  if  they'd  been  biled." 
The  young  man  laughed  appreciatively,  while 
14 


LOST 

John,  without  a  word  of  comment,  arose,  and 
putting  his  foot  against  the  front  of  the  green 
birch  fire,deftly  pushed  the  burning  sticks  closer 
to  each  other.  The  blaze  sprang  out  and  lighted 
the  amphitheatre  of  balsams.  There  was  a  long 
silence,  finally  broken  by  Hardy  : 
u  When  you  get  ready,  Billy,  you  can  tell  us 
how  far  you  had  wandered  from  camp,  how 
you  got  back,  and  what  became  of  the  oxen." 
"  About  eighty  rod,"  said  Billy, "  and  the  oxen 
was  back." 
"  Circled,"  said  John. 

"  I  have  heard  of  that,"  said  Hardy,  "  that  is, 
I  have  heard  that  no  man  naturally  travels  in 
the  woods,  off  the  trail,  in  a  straight  line ;  that 
it  is  hard  to  keep  from  curving  to  the  right  or 
the  left." 

"  It  is  hard,"  said  John.  "  When  the  sun  is 
shinin',  any  body  can  walk  straight,  for  you 
steer  by  your  shadow.  On  a  cloudy  day,  or  in 
the  dark,  if  you  have  n't  forgot  your  compass, 
as  you  generally  have,  you  can  look  at  that  once 

'5 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

in  a  while  and  hold  a  pretty  good  line,  but  you 
need  to  learn  to  trust  your  compass,  and  not 
fight  it. 

"  A  good  while  ago  I  went  out  in  the  afternoon 
to  put  out  six  dogs  for  a  party  on  Upper  Plains. 
I  wanted  to  wait  till  the  next  mornin',  but  they 
wanted  the  biggest  buck  in  the  woods  the  first 
day.  I  had  four  young  dogs  on  chain  and  two 
old  ones  free.  The  dogs  dragged  me  wherever 
they  wanted  to,  when  they  happened  to  pull 
together,  and  at  other  times  they  girdled  trees 
and  tore  the  witch  hopples  with  the  chains.  I 
let  the  last  dog  go  on  a  fresh  track  and  then 
started  for  the  river.  I  did  n't  know  much 
about  that  country  then,  but  of  course  I  had  n't 
forgot  that  water  runs  down-hill,  and  I  knew 
the  lay  of  the  land  and  that  all  the  main  ridges 
run  northeast.  So  I  kep'  a-quarterin'  on  'em, 
workin'  down-hill,  a-thinkin'  I  was  goin'  plumb 
north.  Fact  was,  I  'd  been  lookin'  for  tracks 
and  rasslin'  with  the  dogs,  and  they'd  led  me 
over  the  river  divide  without  my  knowin'  it,  and 
16 


LOST 

if  I  'd  kep'  a-goin'  I  M  V  found  the  Mohawk, 
the  way  the  Injins  used  to.  I  'd  been  careless, 
and  carelessness  is  the  worst  fault  a  man  can 
have,  except  lyin'  about  what  he  's  done. 
"  After  walkin'  awhile  I  got  suspicious  and 
looked  at  my  compass  and  found  that  the  needle 
pointed  exactly  wrong  way.  'Course,  I  did  n't 
think  that  was  queer,  because  I  had  four  heavy 
dog-chains  wrapped  on  my  belt ;  so  I  kep'  on 
the  bearin'  that  I  knew  was  due  north,  for  of 
course  I  'd  strike  the  river  that  way.  It  was 
beginnin'  dark  and  I  was  gettin'  tired  when  I 
looked  at  the  compass  again.  The  chains  were 
holdin'  the  needle  wrong-end-to  just  as  before, 
so  I  lit  my  pipe  and  stopped  to  think  about  it. 
Pretty  soon  I  got  a  little  sense  and  took  off  my 
chains  and  put  the  compass  on  a  stump  four 
rod  off,  and  it  pointed  wrong  way  just  the  same. 
So  I  give  up  fightin'  and  went  wrong  way  and 
come  in  all  right. 

"  If  you  only  want  to  travel  straight,  that 's 
easy,  when  you  learn  it.     Keep  your  eye  more 
2  17 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

or  less  on  peculiar  trees  far  ahead  and  hold  your 
line.  When  you  have  to  turn  out  for  wind- 
falls or  swamps,  allow  for  it  and  get  back  on 
your  line." 

"  But,  John,  why  is  it  that  a  man  naturally  cir- 
cles ?  When  he  wobbles  and  varies,  I  should 
think  the  errors  would  tend  to  neutralize  each 
other  and  keep  him  nearly  straight,  or  at  least 
sometimes  straight." 

"  He  does,  that 's  all  I  know,  and  I  don't  rightly 
know  why.  I  used  to  think  it  was  on  the  part 
of  the  side-hills,  because  a  man  naturally  turns 
to  easy  goin',  but  I  give  that  up.  Last  year  a 
fellow  came  up  here  and  showed  me  a  pattern 
of  his  head  that  he  said  his  hatter  had  made  for 
him  with  a  machine.  It  wa'n't  the  shape  of  an 
egg;  it  was  bulged  out  on  one  side  more  than 
on  the  other,  and  I  said, '  Man  alive,  you  don't 
claim  that  your  head  is  lop-sided  like  that  ?  ' 
And  he  said  it  certainly  was  so;  that  every  man's 
head  leaned  out,  one  side  or  the  other,  front  or 
back.  If  that 's  so,  it  accounts  for  circlin'." 
18 


CHILDREN   OF  THE   STREAM 

HARDY'S  boyhood  in  northern  Illi- 
nois was  uneventful.   He  had  a  cred- 
itable college  career,  and  became  an 
athlete,  always  with  one  defect,  an  occasional 
reminder  of  an  old  trouble  with  his  throat.    He 
studied  law,  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  was 
not  quite  definitively  in  love  with  a  dearest  girl, 
when  his  defect  reached  its  climax  and  he  be- 
came nearly  voiceless. 

It  is  hard  indeed  to  lose  any  one  of  the  senses 
or  any  one  of  the  powers.  We  use  them  un- 
thinkingly until  a  defect  appears,  when,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  it  is  to  the  sufferer  the  most 
serious  possible  loss.  Hardy's  promising  ca- 
reer was  ended  at  its  threshold,  and,  as  his  only 
chance  for  recovery  was  by  living  in  mountain 
air,  his  father's  friend  and  law  partner,  Colo- 
nel Warren,  sent  him  to  the  care  of  John,  a 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

wise  and  observant  woods  guide.  He  deter- 
mined to  learn  woodcraft,  and  it  was  probably 
well  for  him  and  for  his  zeal  that  he  had  no  con- 
ception of  the  size  of  his  undertaking,  although 
he  was  nearly  right  in  his  idea  that  it  was  the 
art  of  doing  what  you  will  in  the  woods. 
The  experienced  sportsman  is  apt  to  learn  to 
dislike  the  name,  "  guide  "  ;  or  possibly  only  to 
dislike  being  guided  by  any  one  in  his  rambles 
in  the  woods.  To  him  a  large  part  of  the 
charm  of  it  all  is  absolute  freedom  and  self-re- 
liance, and  this  is  slightly  dulled  when  the  plan- 
ning is  done  by  an  employe,  or  when  he  may 
be  skilfully  and  tamely  led  out  of  trouble  like 
an  erring  child.  Nevertheless,  the  splendid 
woodsmen  who  serve  as  guides  are  indispensa- 
ble, both  for  creature  comfort  and  as  sources  of 
information.  Without  such  a  trained  woods 
housekeeper  and  boatman,  a  sportsman  who 
has  a  few  weeks'  outing  each  year  learns  slowly 
and  lives  wretchedly.  If  he  is  zealous  and  will- 
ing to  work  he  can  shorten  his  apprenticeship 
20 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  STREAM 
in  woodcraft  and  do  it  all  alone,  if  he  will  study 
Systematic  Botany  and  Entomology  ;  read  the 
books  of  Seton  Thompson  and  Livingston 
Stone,  and  Wordsworth's  poems ;  and  then, 
with  a  proper  mixture  of  energy  and  caution, 
go  into  the  woods  with  the  zeal  of  a  lover,  pre- 
pared for  accidents  and  hardships,  with  eyes 
wide  open  for  minute  inspection  rather  than 
for  general  seeing.  The  object  of  his  love  is 
not  coy,  and  he  need  not  be  afraid  to  know  too 
much  about  her. 

Nevertheless,  any  sportsman,  young  or  old,  can 
do  more,  learn  more,  and  enjoy  more  with  a 
good  guide  than  without  one.  They  vary,  these 
guides,  in  character  and  value,  as  do  all  other 
human  beings,  but  we  are  thinking  only  of  the 
thorough  woodsman  guide  who  has  knowledge, 
self-respect,  and  pride  in  his  calling.  He  is  a 
keen,  versatile  sportsman.  He  cares  for  your 
health  and  does  the  work  of  a  valet  in  a  moth- 
erly fashion.  He  carves  out  the  fuel  while  you 
admire  him  as  an  athlete  and  a  sculptor.  He 

21 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

cooks  with  the  dignity  and  skill  of  a  laboratory 
'professor,  but  he  is  not  professorial  after  the 
dishes  are  washed,  by  the  camp  fire  in  the  even- 
ing, when  he  is  your  peer,  a  modest,  simple 
gentleman,  whose  life  has  been  away  from 
men,  among  the  mute  works  of  God. 
When  Hardy  came  to  the  trout  hatchery  and 
met  John,  it  was  in  the  early  spring,  before  the 
snow  and  ice  had  gone,  while  the  forest  was 
still  black  and  the  only  leaf  colors  were  the 
deep  greens  of  the  spruces,  hemlocks,  and  bal- 
sams. The  hatchery  was  in  its  most  interest- 
ing and  wonderful  period.  In  shallow  troughs 
of  blackened  boards,  in  a  gently  flowing  cur- 
rent of  spring  water,  he  saw  thousands  of  feeble 
swimmers  that  looked  like  animated  half-inch 
finishing-nails.  These  were  trout  in  the  third 
stage  of  their  existence,  learning  to  swim  and 
to  eat ;  being  tenderly  equipped  for  a  fierce 
struggle  for  life,  in  which  the  days  without 
hunger  or  danger  would  be  few  indeed  ;  in 
which  tragedies  would  be  frequent  and  which 
22 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    STREAM 

would  surely  end  in  tragedy.  It  is  not  reason- 
able to  expect  any  sportive  or  humorous  ten- 
dency to  develop  among  the  survivors  of  a  race 
whose  energy  is  devoted  to  getting  food  and 
avoiding  danger.  A  trout  is  a  fierce  and 
solemn  brute,  that  does  not  fight  unnecessarily, 
and  that  does  not  hesitate  to  eat  his  own 
brother,  sister,  or  children,  when  by  any  chance 
they  most  conveniently  satisfy  his  appetite.  He 
is  an  exemplar  of  that  singleness  of  purpose 
and  concentrated  effort  which  we,  as  sages,  ad- 
vise the  young  to  emulate,  but  which  in  our 
own  lives  we  find  quite  unsatisfactory. 
These  baby  trout,  the  "  fry,"  were  being  fed 
five  or  six  times  a  day  by  carefully  distributing 
minutely  ground  liver  in  the  water  in  the 
troughs.  As  the  floury  substance  sank  to  the 
bottom,  Hardy,  by  careful  watching,  could  oc- 
casionally see  a  particle  consumed  by  a  listless 
baby.  Apparently  none  of  them  ate  these  par- 
ticles except  during  the  time  they  were  float- 
ing freely  in  the  water,  and  it  seemed  to  him 

23 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

wasteful  that  the  caretaker  should,  soon  after 
serving  food,  proceed  to  sweep  the  bottom 
clean  with  a  hawk's-wing  feather.  He  learned, 
later,  how  surely  tainted  food  kills  all  the  young 
trout  in  a  trough. 

The  hatchery  had  at  this  time  many  other  pro- 
cesses than  the  feeding-troughs  which  were  of 
interest,  for,  happily,  the  beginnings  of  life, 
from  the  egg  to  the  fry,  are  so  delicate  as  well 
as  beyond  all  understanding,  are  accelerated  or 
retarded  so  subtly,  that  they  do  not  come  out 
all  at  once  like  the  blossoms  of  an  apple  tree,  but 
develop  day  by  day,  some  early  and  some  late, 
covering  a  period  of  many  days.  If  the  pro- 
visions of  Nature  were  otherwise,  few  of  those 
born  naturally  in  the  streams  could  live,  and 
artificial  hatching  would  have  an  almost  insur- 
mountable difficulty. 

If  Hardy  had  come  a  little  earlier  to  the 
troughs,  he  would  have  seen  nearly  submerged 
blackened  wooden  frames  with  bottoms  of 
moderately  coarse  wire-netting,  and  these 
24 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    STREAM 

paved  with  pearls,  the  yet  unhatched  eggs.  He 
did  see,  in  adjoining  troughs,  little  alevins  lying 
quietly  in  great  masses.  The  eggs  were  still 
attached  to  their  slender  bodies,  and  they  re- 
minded him  of  classic  drawings  of  the  heart 
pierced  with  an  arrow.  This  was  their  dawn 
of  consciousness,  and  their  only  movements 
seemed  to  be  made  by  the  current  of  water  that 
was  rustling  among  them.  Nevertheless,  their 
little  hearts  were  beating  and  their  organs  were 
making  muscle  from  the  yolk  of  the  egg  to 
which  they  were  attached. 
Hardy  had  so  many  questions  to  ask  that  he 
was  afraid  of  forgetting  them,  but  it  was  cold 
and  damp,  and  the  men  were  eagerly  busy. 
There  was  also  great  difficulty  with  his  weak 
voice  in  making  himself  heard.  A  rush  of 
water  came  into  the  hatchery  through  5 -inch 
pipes,  and  poured,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  with  a 
uselessly  heavy  fall  into  a  head  trough,  where 
it  rushed  noisily  along  until  it  was  exhausted 
by  successive  taps  which  took  contributions 

25 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

from  it  to  the  troughs  that  held  the  trout  fry. 
After  supper,  by  the  fire,  he  had  no  difficulty 
in  getting  answers  from  John. 
"  Trout  fry,"  said  John,  "  are  like  all  other 
babies;  they're  always  wantin'  somethin'. 
When  they  don't  get  enough  food  they  hunt 
up  diseases,  and  when  they  have  enough  food 
they  yearn  for  accidents.  The  worst  disease 
is  fungus,  which  grows  on  fry  or  on  old  trout 
just  as  fungus  grows  on  trees.  Fact  is,  it  comes 
from  fresh  boards  or  from  sawdust.  The  rea- 
son a  saw-mill  kills  all  the  trout  is  that  saw- 
dust breeds  fungus,  not  because  the  sawdust 
chokes  the  fishes'  gills,  as  some  people  think. 
Nothin'  can  save  a  trout  after  a  white  fungus 
spot  comes,  for  it  grows  larger  and  larger,  until 
he  turns  on  his  side  and  dies.  It 's  contagious, 
and  when  fungus  comes  you  can't  pick  the  sick 
ones  out  fast  enough  to  save  many.  Of  course 
you  can  check  it  a  little  by  puttin'  salt  in  the 
water,  but  the  best  way  is  to  prevent  it  alto- 
gether by  burnin'  all  the  wood  in  the  troughs 
26 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    STREAM 

and  trays  until  the  surfaces  are  charred,  or  else 
by  paintin'  everything  with  asphalt,  which  is 
about  as  sure.  Then  there  is  dropsy  yr  blue 
swellin',  gill  fever,  fin  disease,  and  lots  of  other 
small  troubles  which  carry  off  weak  ones  that 
are  perhaps  not  worth  savin'.  But  sometimes 
the  strong  ones  get  logy,  stop  eatin'  for  a  few 
days  and  then  die.  This  comes  of  high  livin' 
and  pure  water.  It  's  easy  to  cure  it  by  puttin' 
mud  in  the  water.  I  know  one  hatchery  where 
they  had  pure  spring  water,  right  out  of  the 
rock,  and  the  fry  fatted  up  and  died.  They  led 
the  spring  into  an  artificial  pond  where  cattle 
came  to  drink  and  riled  it  every  day.  After  that 
they  had  no  more  logy  trout.  You  don't  be- 
lieve it  ?  It 's  true.  The  hatchery  is  n't  there 
now,  but  I  can  show  you  the  spring  and  the 
cows. 

"  A  good  many  trout  are  weak  or  imperfect 
when  they  're  born,  but  after  they  're  thinned 
out,  I  think  starvation  kills  more  than  disease 
does,  so  we  feed  'em  often  and  all  they  want. 

27 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
It 's  easy  to  feed  the  strong  ones  that  stay  up 
in  the  lively  water  at  the  head  of  the  trough ; 
but  the  weak  ones  that  get  discouraged  and  drop 
down  the  current  toward  the  foot  of  the  trough 
need  coddlin'. 

u  I  don't  see  how  these  innocent  fry  can  grow 
up  to  be  cannibals,  but  they  do.  All  fish  are 
like  some  men  that  start  right  and  go  wrong. 
Billy  Drew  tells  a  story  and  I  know  it 's  true. 
Last  summer  when  he  was  fishi  n'  in  Long  Lake, 
the  buckskin  thong  that  was  fastened  on  his 
watch  slipped  offhis  pants'  button  and  the  watch 
dropped  out  of  his  pocket  into  forty  feet  of 
water.  In  the  fall  I  was  out  with  him  spear- 
in'  pickerel,  and  when  we  come  ashore  I  says, 
c  Billy,  what  makes  that  tickin'  sound  ? '  and 
says  he, '  I  guess  that's  my  watch.'  And  he 
opened  a  ten-pound  pickerel  and  found  it,  keep- 
in'  time  just  as  natural  as  any  watch.  The 
thong  was  looped  on  the  pickerel's  jaw,  and 
was  more  or  less  wound  on  the  stem-winder, 
and  the  motions  of  bitin'  and  digestin'  kep'  the 
28 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    STREAM 

watch  spring  tight  as  a  drum,  for  a  pickerel 
never  rests." 

"John,"  said  Hardy,  "  is  that  all  true  ?  " 
"I'm  afraid  it  ain't  all  true,"  said  John.  "  You 
can't  depend  on  Billy  on  the  part  of  the  weights 
he  gives  for  fish.  I  never  thought  his  pickerel, 
without  the  watch,  weighed  more  'n  about 
eight  pounds,  but  the  point  is  true  that  all  fish 
are  hungry  sometimes,  not  all  times,  and  '11  bite 
almost  anything. 

"  In  a  few  weeks,  when  the  fry  in  our  troughs 
have  learned  what  fun  it  is  to  eat,  they  '11  begin 
to  object  to  our  bill  of  fare,  and  call  it  monot- 
onous and  hold  indignation  meetin's  and  inquire 
of  each  other  if  any  one  ever  heard  of  havin' 
nothin'  but  liver  to  eat  six  times  a  day.  A 
good  many  '11  conclude  that  there  's  more  va- 
riety and  excitement  outside,  and  they  '11  crowd 
under  the  tail-board,  and  into  the  wire  meshes, 
and  die  there.  Then  the  black  flies  and  mos- 
quitoes will  come  and  hover  over  the  troughs 
and  the  trout  '11  leap  for  'em  and  throw  them- 

29 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

selves  over  the  sides  to  die  on  the  floor.  The 
only  thing  that  has  more  appetite  than  trout  is 
a  reptile.  Every  crack  in  the  hatchery  needs  to 
be  closed  tight  to  keep  out  snakes,  lizards,  and 
frogs.  I  found  a  frog  at  the  troughs  one  morn- 
in'  and  cut  him  open  and  counted  out  four 
hundred  fry." 

"  He  must  have  belonged,  or  wanted  to  belong, 
to  the  c  Smart  Set,'  "  said  Hardy.  "  But  what 
is  the  result  of  all  these  diseases  and  accidents  ? 
How  many  fish,  out  of  a  thousand  eggs,  live  ?  " 
"  That  depends  on  the  eggs,  and  the  diseases 
and  the  accidents.  Some  lots  of  eggs  produce 
mostly  weak  or  deformed  fish,  while  other  lots 
hatch  out  95  per  cent  of  good  ones.  With- 
out figurin'  on  serious  accidents,  such  as  the 
breakin'  away  of  the  dam  or  freezin'  of  the 
water  in  the  intake  pipe,  when  everything  in 
the  hatchery  may  be  lost,  it 's  good  work  in 
this  region  to  save  three-quarters  of 'em  until 
May  and  June,  when  we  put  out  fry  ;  or  half 
of  'em  to  October,  when  we  call  'em  finger- 
30 


CHILDREN    OF    THE    STREAM 

lings.  This,  of  course,  is  thousands  of  times 
better  luck  than  trout  have  when  they  spawn 
naturally  in  the  streams.  One  man's  guess  is 
as  good  as  another's,  but  I  don't  suppose  that 
more  'n  one  out  of  a  thousand  natural  born 
eggs  makes  a  trout  that  lives.  If  it  did,  they 
would  pretty  soon  be  thick  enough  to  raise  the 
river  a  foot  a  year." 

"  Mr.  Hardy,"  said  John,  one  evening  in  April, 
"  would  you  like  to  go  with  me  to  look  up  put- 
tin'-out  places  for  fry  ?      It  '11  be  a  long  walk, 
so  that  we  '11  have  to  stay  out  one  night,  and  a 
good  deal  of  it  will  be  bad  goin',  so  we  can't 
carry  much  for  comfort  and  food." 
"  Shall  we  camp  out  ?  " 
"  Sure,  we  will." 

"  Then  please  take  me  along,  and  give  me  the 
greatest  pleasure  of  my  life." 
"  I  don't  rightly  see  how  gettin'  tired  and  then 
fightin'  for  comfort,  as  you  have  to  do  in  camp- 
in,'  is  pleasure.  Seems  to  me  a  good  supper, 
a  rockin'  chair,  a  pipe,  bed-time,  and  a  soft  bedj 

31 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

gets  a  man  a  little  nearer  heaven  than  any- 
thing else  does,  but  I '  ve  got  to  go  and  of  course 
I  'd  like  to  have  you  go  along,  if  you  think  you 
can  stan'  it.  Last  August  I  went  over  all  the 
spring  brooks  in  this  region  and  made  a  list  of 
all  that  went  dry  and  of  all  that  were  alive  in 
the  dry  season,  so  that  this  spring  we  could 
stock  with  fry  all  the  livin'  brooks." 
u  Why,  then,  John,  do  you  need  to  go  now  and 
look  them  all  over  again  ?  " 
"  Because  a  man  with  a  carry-can  and  thirty 
pounds  of  water  hammerin'  his  back  at  every 
step  needs  easy  goin',  and  I  want  to  look  up 
the  shortest  and  easiest  ways  to  get  to  the  little 
creeks  and  blaze  out  lines  for  the  carry-men  to 
follow.  If  I  don't  do  that,  they  are  liable  to 
get  tired  and  turn  all  the  trout  loose  in  the  first 
stream  they  come  to,  and  then  rest  an  hour  or 
so  and  come  back  to  the  hatchery  lookin'  just 
as  if  they  loved  hard  work.  I  want  'em  to  fol- 
low my  lines  and  cut  a  notch  on  a  tree  by  the 
brook  wherever  a  can  has  been  emptied,  and 
32 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  STREAM 
then  when  I  come  along  I  '11  know  they  have 
been  there." 

"  I  see,"  said  Hardy,  "  the  tree  takes  a  receipt 
and  holds  it  for  you  as  cestui  que  trust.  But 
how  many  trout  do  you  put  in  one  stream,  and 
why  do  you  put  them  in  the  very  small  spring 
brooks  ?  " 

"  We  put  'em  in  the  smallest  livin'  brooks  and 
scatter  'em  as  much  as  possible,  so  they  can  hide. 
Each  one  needs  a  sunk  leaf,  or  a  chip,  or  a 
stone,  or  a  twig,  to  hide  under  ;  just  big  enough 
to  cover  him  and  not  attract  the  curiosity  of  an 
enemy  —  the  smaller  the  better.  You  see  every- 
body is  waitin'  for  him  and  lookin'  for  him  from 
the  moment  he  is  put  out  until  he  is  killed,  and 
he  's  a-goin'  to  live  anywhere  from  one  second 
to  ten  years,  accordin'  to  his  luck,  but  the  kill- 
in'  is  sure.  I  never  knew  of  a  trout  dyin'  of 
old  age,  although  I  've  heard  of  it ;  but  you 
-  hear  of  a  good  many  things.  His  worst  ene- 
mies are  his  own  kind,  his  older  brothers  and 
sisters,  father  and  mother,  uncles  and  aunts ;  and 
3  33 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

that 's  why  we  put  out  fry  in  the  smallest  possible 
streams,  too  small  to  hold  big  trout.  We  put 
out  a  can  of  little  trout  last  year  on  a  shoal  in 
the  lake,  and  a  few  minutes  afterward  I  flycasted 
and  caught  a  quarter-pounder  that  had  fourteen 
of  our  little  home-made  trout  inside  of  him. 
"  Then  there  are  the  kingfishers,  fish-hawks, 
weasels,  mink,  muskrats,  snakes,  frogs,  and 
lizards,  all  a-lookin*  for  him  with  beady  eyes. 
He  has  a  hard  time  tryin'  to  lead  a  quiet,  re- 
tired life  and  grow  up  and  get  fat  and  please 
a  fly  fisherman,  and  that 's  the  reason  they  need 
to  be  scattered  at  first  as  much  as  possible,  so 
each  little  fish  can  have  his  own  pet  leaf  or  stone 
to  live  under.  He  '11  make  short  trips  from  it 
to  catch  an  insect,  and  then  slip  back  to  digest 
it.  A  pack-can  load,  about  5000  fry,  ought  to 
be  scattered  along  eighty  to  a  hundred  and  sixty 
rod  of  a  very  small  brook." 
"  When  is  the  best  time  to  put  out  trout  ? " 
"  I  don't  know.  I  used  to  put  Jem  out  just 
when  they  had  used  up  the  eggs  they  had  been 
34 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  STREAM 
fastened  to  and  livin'  on  since  they  were  born 
and  when  they  were  gettin'  free  from  the  sacs 
—  just  before  they'd  learned  to  eat  with  their 
mouths.  This  has  a  good  many  advantages, 
for  you  can  carry  twice  as  many  safe  in  the 
can,  and  you  save  the  expense  of  food  and  feed- 
in*  in  the  hatchery,  and  I  hope  that  one  in  a 
hundred  of  'em  lived,  but  I  doubt  it.  A  few 
years  ago  I  got  orders  to  hold  the  fry  in  the 
hatchery  and  feed  'em  for  a  year  before  puttin' 
out.  Probably  one-third  of  them  lived  to  be 
yearlin's,  which  was  good  enough,  but  we  fig- 
ured that  from  first  to  last  these  yearlin's  cost 
five  cents  apiece.  Now  we  're  holdin'  the 
fry  in  the  troughs  and  gettin'  'em  as  fat  and 
frisky  as  possible,  so 's  to  put  out  just  before  hot 
weather  comes.  Then  we  close  the  hatchery 
and  stop  expense  until  September." 
"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me,  John,  just  how  the 
fry  are  carried  and  put  out.  You  know  I  have 
enlisted  for  that  work  when  the  time  comes." 
"  If  I  tell  it  all,  I  '11  need  to  begin  now  and  talk 

35 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

fast  so  as  to  get  through  in  the  next  three  weeks. 
If  the  weather  's  cool  and  you  have  only  a  few 
miles  to  carry,  everything  is  easy.  You  can 
put  5000  fry  in  about  four  gallons  of  water, 
and  with  a  forty-pound  pack  you  can  walk 
through  without  stoppin'  and  not  lose  a  trout. 
You  '11  only  break  your  back  and  pound  your 
knees  sore,  for  water 's  the  hardest  load  a  man 
can  carry.  Trout  live  in  less  water  while  be- 
in'  carried  in  a  pack-can  than  in  any  other  way, 
because  every  step  churns  the  water  and  mixes 
fresh  air  with  it,  and  that  is  just  what  the  trout 
want.  They  breathe  air,  not  water.  But  if 
the  carry  is  a  long  one,  the  water  '11  get  warm, 
because  your  can  is  patterned  to  fit  your  back 
pretty  close,  and  warm  water  does  n't  hold  air 
in  it  anything  like  so  easy  as  cold  water  does. 
Then  when  you  stop  to  rest  you  '11  see  a  lot 
of  fry  strugglin' with  their  heads  at  the  top  of 
the  water,  try  in'  to  get  air,  and  they  '11  begin 
to  die  fast  unless  you  do  somethin*  right  away. 
Always  stop  to  rest  where  there 's  cold  water, 

36 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  STREAM 
but  don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  put  cold  water  in  the 
can,  for  a  sudden  change  will  kill  a  good  many. 
Set  the  can  in  the  water  and  let  it  cool  gradu- 
ally, even  if  it  takes  half  an  hour,  and  while 
you  're  waitin'  pour  water  from  the  can  into 
your  cup  and,  holdin'  it  high  up,  pour  the  water 
back  again.  In  a  little  while  you  can  safely 
pour  water  from  the  can  and  throw  it  away, 
and  dip  from  the  cold  water  and  pour  it  in  the 
can.  It 's  fine  to  see  the  fry  gradually  get  enough 
air  to  satisfy  'em,  and  then  drop  to  the  bottom 
and  be  comfortable  and  contented. 
"  As  the  weather  gets  warmer,  you  need  to  use 
ice,  but  you  mus'  n't  put  the  ice  loose  in  the 
can.  It  '11  rattle  'round  and  bruise  and  destroy 
more  trout  than  a  mink  would.  I  suppose 
there  's  a  good  many  ways  of  carryin'  ice  with- 
out hurtin'  the  trout,  and  probably  some  of 
'em  are  better  than  our  way.  We  put  a  few 
pounds  of  ice  on  a  piece  of  cheese-cloth,  then 
gether  the  ends  together  and  tie  'em  to  the  top 
of  the  can,  lettin'  the  bag  of  ice  swing  inside, 

37 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

just  free  from  the  top  of  the  water.  The  great 
thing  is  to  keep  the  fish  pleased  and  satisfied, 
so  they  '11  stay  at  the  bottom.  When  any  of 
'em  come  to  the  surface,  you  may  know  that 
trouble  has  begun  and  you  must  give  'em  air 
in  some  way,  even  if  you  have  to  pump  it  in 
with  bellows.  It  is  n't  a  bad  idea  to  carry  along 
a  common  fireplace  bellows,  and  occasionally 
give  'em  a  blowin'  up. 

"  When  you  come  to  the  water  where  the  trout 
are  to  be  set  free,  set  your  can  in  the  water  and, 
by  dippin'  and  pourin'  and  waitin',get  the  same 
temperature  in  the  can  as  in  the  stream.  If  you 
have  to  wait  for  this,  put  in  your  time  a- 
strollin'  along  the  stream  to  see  if  there  are  too 
many  natural  enemies  to  make  it  healthy  for 
your  little  friends.  Then  you  can  turn  your  can 
carefully  in  the  water  and  float  out  afew  at  a  time 
in  likely  places.  It 's  well,  when  your  can  is 
emptied,  to  go  along  back  quietly  and  see  what 's 
happened.  You're  liable  to  see  a  big  trout 
havin'  lots  of  fun  with  the  innocents  abroad." 

38 


A   MAN   WITH   AN   AXE 

IN  the  morning  they  made  an  early  start, 
and  as  Hardy  followed  John  he  was  full 
of  boyish  joy,  of  a  kind  of  exaltation  he 
had  not  felt  since  he  had  long  ago  looked  for- 
ward to  a  Sunday-school  picnic.  There  was 
still  snow  in  the  thick  swamps,  and  it  had  only 
lately  gone  from  the  hills  and  the  hard-wood 
flats,  but  the  water  had  sunk  in  the  duff —  the 
sponge  that  covers  the  Adirondack  rocks  and 
acts  as  a  reservoir,  gradually  releasing  the  water 
during  dry  times  and  helping  to  maintain  a 
more  uniform  flow  from  the  springs  and  in  the 
streams.  The  sponge  consists  largely  of  resi- 
nous leaves  of  the  evergreens,  which  are  slow 
to  decay  and  thus  prevent  the  formation  of  hard 
soil.  As  long  as  the  trees  are  preserved  so 
that  their  shade  prevents  too  rapid  evaporation, 
the  natural  reservoir  system  is  automatically 

39 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

perfect.  To  ruin  it  is  as  easy  as  it  is  to  spoil 
a  watch,  and  careless  lumbermen  know  how  to 
do  it. 

It  occurred  to  Hardy  that  it  was  hard  to  keep 
his  heels  near  the  ground.  His  buoyancy  of 
spirits  and  the  marvellous  elasticity  of  the  North 
Woods  trail  gave  him  the  feeling  of  bounding 
and  rebounding,  and  he  thought  of  himself  as 
the  striking  bag  in  the  gymnasium  where  he 
had  so  often  worked.  John's  equipment  and 
his  carriage  made  a  striking  figure.  His  pack- 
basket  seemed  to  emphasize  his  erectness.  He 
stepped  quickly  and  with  the  least  possible  ex- 
ertion, but  so  lightly  that  Hardy  could  not  hear 
his  footfalls.  He  never  seemed  to  be  looking 
for  his  footing,  yet  he  skipped  the  sticks  and 
stones  on  which  Hardy,  in  spite  of  his  care, 
was  often  noisily  stumbling.  John's  eyes  kept 
constant  watch,  both  far  and  near,  while  Hardy 
had  need  of  all  this  sense  to  guide  his  steps. 
u  Better  not  watch  your  feet  so  much,"  said 
John,  as  they  halted  for  a  rest.  "  Step  high 
40 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
and  look  ahead  and  all  'round  and  see  what  's 
goin'  on.  When  you  are  trampin'  in  the  woods 
always  be  still  and  try  to  see  everything  unu- 
sual. You  '11  soon  learn  to  watch  the  ground 
the  same  time  you  're  lookin'  ahead.  You  can 
see  logs  and  sticks,  ahead  of  you,  out  of  the 
under  side  of  your  eyes,  and  allow  for  'em  when 
you  get  to  'em,  without  lookin'  at  'em.  Don't 
drag  your  toes,  and  never  step  on  a  stick  or  a 
stone  when  there  is  any  other  footin',  unless 
you  really  want  to  slip  and  make  a  noise  and 
never  see  anything.  Noise  does  n't  do  any  good, 
and  it  frightens  everything  that  can  run  or  hide. 
You  step  on  a  twig  and  see  only  the  flash  of 
a  deer's  flag  as  it  goes  out  of  sight  over  a  knoll. 
I  'm  a-thinkin'  you  might  cure  that  cough  of 
yours,  Mr.  Hardy,  if  you  don't  mind  the  bitter 
taste  of  balsam  blister.  You  '11  be  more  com- 
fortable and  have  a  chance  to  see  more  if  you 
git  red  of  it." 

As  he  was  speaking,  John  had   opened   his 
knife  and  neatly  wiped  and  polished  its  blade 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

on  a  leaf.  He  turned  to  a  balsam  tree  and 
pricked  the  lower  edge  of  a  blister.  He  then 
flattened  the  blister  with  his  forefinger  and 
pressed  out  on  the  clean  knife-blade  a  few 
drops  of  thin,  amber-colored  gum,  and  offered 
it  to  Hardy. 

"  It  would  be  easier  to  swallow  if  I  had  a  lump 
of  sugar  to  drop  it  on,"  said  he. 
"  What  a  spicy  woods'  odor  it  has  !  "  said 
Hardy,  hesitating.    "  It  is  inspiring.    It  is  the 
heart  of  the  woods." 

"  It  smells  good,  but  it  tastes  bad,  and  it  '11 
cure  you,  if  you  '11  carry  lumps  of  sugar  in  your 
pocket  and  take  a  few  drops  of  balsam  two  or 
three  times  a  day.  There  's  plenty  of  cough 
medicine  'round  here.  Now,  there  's  Indian 
turnip,  or  Jack-in-the-Pulpit." 
"  No,  John,  you  would  n't  lure  me  into  biting 
that  root,  would  you  ?  I  tried  it  when  I  was 
a  boy,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  frightful  burn- 
ing and  choking  taste  of  Indian  turnip." 
"  That 's  right,  when  it 's  fresh,  but  when  the 
42 


A     MAN    WITH     AN    AXE 
root  is  dried  it  loses  its  caustic  and  is  as  bland 
as  a  baked  potato.     It 's  like  arrow-root  j  you 
grate  it  and  a  teaspoonful  three  times  a  day  is 
good  for  colds  or  fevers  or  bronchitis.     When 
you  can't  find  Indian  turnip,  you  can  always 
take  the  inner  bark  of  wild  cherry  and  make  a 
tea  that  is  nearly  as  good  for  a  cough." 
u  John,    is  n't   that   the   leaf  of  the   trailing 
arbutus  ?  " 

"  Good  eye  !  good  boy  !  "  said  John.  "  I  've 
been  watchin'  for  it  on  every  likely  slope  since 
we  started,  and  while  we  've  been  restin'  here 
I  've  been  preachin'  instead  of  lookin'.  You  '11 
be  a  woodsman,  for  you  can  see." 
By  brushing  aside  the  coating  of  dead  hard- 
wood leaves  they  uncovered  a  quantity  of  the 
sweet  and  beautiful  blossoms,  and  John  told 
Hardy  of  the  habits  of  this  lovely  early  flower 
which  plays  hide-and-seek  with  the  sunlight. 
"  But  I  don't  know  what  they  're  good  for," 
he  added,  regretfully,  for  in  John's  mind  was 
listed  nearly  every  plant  and  shrub  that  grows 

43 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

in  the  woods,  and  opposite  its  name  was  a  dis- 
ease or  an  accident  it  was  "  good  for." 
"Put  this  down  in  your  mind,  John,"  said 
Hardy  :    "  trailing  arbutus  is  good   for  envy, 
hatred,  and  malice." 

The  day  was  spent  in  hard  work,  and  it  seemed 
to  Hardy  unaccountable  that,  in  spite  of  his  ath- 
letic training,  in  the  vigor  of  his  youth,  he  soon 
exhausted  himself,  while  old  John,  carrying  the 
pack  and  a  light  axe,  was  tireless.  The  "going" 
was  distinctly  bad,  for  they  were  blazing  lines 
to  small  spring-brooks  which  naturally  head  in 
swamps  and  rough  country.  He  had  a  valu- 
able first  lesson  in  the  art  of  getting  through  the 
woods  and  holding  a  line  while  skirting  burned 
ground,  windfalls,  high  hills,  and  swamps.  The 
sun  was  nearly  down  when  they  reached  an  open 
camp,  with  a  spruce-bark  roof,  where  they  were 
to  spend  the  night.  John  swung  his  pack-bas- 
ket to  the  ground  quickly,  and,  with  almost  no 
halt  in  his  easy  stride,  kept  on  to  a  young  hem- 
lock tree.  With  his  axe  he  trimmed  away  the 
44 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
lower  branches  and  the  near-by  witch  hopples; 
then  with  a  few  blows  he  cut  out  a  notch  in 
the  trunk  on  the  side  toward  the  camp.  A  cut 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  tree  started  it  and 
it  fell  with  a  soft  swish. 

"  Mr.  Hardy,  we  have  considerable  to  do  to  get 
comfortable  before  dark,  and  the  first  thing  to 
be  sure  of  is  a  dry  bed.  You  can  break  off 
these  hemlock  boughs  pretty  fast,  and  when  you 
get  a  handful,  put  'em  down  a  little  careful, 
with  the  butts  all  one  way,  until  you  get  a  pile 
big  enough  for  an  armful,  and  carry  'em  into 
camp,  and  then  put  'em  down  again  careful,  in 
piles,  with  the  butts  all  one  way.  This  '11  save 
you  a  heap  of  trouble  in  makin'  a  bed  by  plant- 
in'  all  the  butts  down,  so  we  can  sleep  on  the 
soft  tops." 

John's  lecture  on  bed  making  was  illustrated, 
and  Hardy  felt  so  confident  of  having  already 
mastered  the  art  that  he  asked  for  the  job,  and 
in  half  an  hour  he  had  finished  it  and  tried  it,  and 
wondered  why  houses  were  built  or  beds  were 

45 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

bought.  He  had  learned  to  thatch  the  boughs 
carefully  and  tightly,  with  the  stiff  stems  buried 
under  the  elastic  tips.  The  air  of  the  camp 
seemed  to  be  purified  by  the  healing  odor  of 
the  evergreen,  and  the  soft  cushion  promised  a 
restorative  for  his  aching  bones. 
Meantime  John  had  been  busy  with  his  axe. 
He  had  "  felled  "  a  ten-inch  yellow  birch,  lopped 
itsbranches,and  cut  it  into  lengths  rather  shorter 
than  ordinary  cord-wood.  He  had  found  a  red- 
spruce  stump  and  cut  and  split  from  it  sev- 
eral armfuls  of  quick-burning  wood  for  kind- 
ling and  for  cooking.  Hardy  had  finished  his 
task  in  time  to  see  John  begin  the  delicate  work 
of  building  his  cooking-fire. 
Possibly  a  woodsman's  tool  more  nearly  per- 
fect and  capable  of  a  greater  variety  of  uses 
than  the  axe  may  sometime  be  invented,  but  it 
does  not  seem  probable.  A  two-handed  cross- 
cut saw  is  more  economical  of  time  and  of 
material,  in  falling  and  cutting  lengths  of  tim- 
ber in  large  quantities.  An  adz  is  somewhat 
46 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
more  convenient  for  flattening  the  upper  side 
of  timber  that  cannot  be  easily  turned  over.  A 
broad-axe  hews  to  the  line  more  accurately. 
A  hammer  or  a  maul,  for  special  services,  is 
better  than  the  poll  of  an  axe.  But  in  the  hands 
of  a  master  the  axe  does  all  this  work  and  much 
other  work,  well  and  quickly.  In  the  matter 
of  weight  and  pattern  the  masters  have  their 
fancies.  One  may  prefer  a  few  ounces  more 
in  the  poll  and  less  in  the  cheek,  while  another 
prefers  the  slightly  fatter  cheek  because  it 
throws  a  chip  more  smartly ;  but  the  variations 
in  pattern  from  the  development  of  centuries 
of  fining  down  are  small  indeed.  There  are 
preferences  for  extra  weight  or  for  lightness,  for 
use  in  hard  wood  or  soft  wood,  or  for  service 
where  the  axe  is  to  be  carried  more  than  it  is 
used,  but  the  man  with  a  three  or  three-and-a- 
half  pound  sharp  axe  who  complains  of  his  tool, 
is  not  a  master. 

There  are  leaning  forest  trees  that  cannot  be 
cut  and  dropped  where  the  master  wants  them 

47 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
to  go  without  the  use  of  a  rope,  but  they  are 
not  common,  and  he  will  study  long  before  los- 
ing belief  that  with  his  axe  alone  he  can  put 
the  tree  where  he  wants  it.  He  may  possibly 
drop  an  adjoining  tree  so  that  its  crotch  will  be 
hung  up  on  the  leaning  one  and  act  as  a  sway- 
ing brace  to  swing  the  obstinate  one  in  the  way 
it  should  go.  Ordinarily,  when  a  doomed  tree 
has  been  viewed  from  two  sides,  the  exact  line, 
within  a  yard,  where  it  is  to  fall,  is  quickly  fore- 
told, and  when  bushes  or  limbs  that  might  in- 
terfere with  the  full  swing  are  cleared  away 
the  rhythmic  strokes  begin.  You  could  dance 
to  the  perfect  time  and  musical  ring  of  the  axe 
until  the  great  notch  is  cut;  and  the  blows  have 
followed  each  other  with  such  wonderful  pre- 
cision that  the  cut  surface  is  as  smooth  as  a 
baby's  cheek.  No  golfer  can  swing  more  truly 
or  carry  through  more  freely  than  the  trained 
woodsman  swings  his  axe.  A  few  strokes  on 
the  opposite  side  and  the  tree  crashes  down  on 
the  chosen  line. 
48 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
But  tree  cutting  is  only  one  of  the  many  uses 
of  the  axe.  Miles  away  from  a  grindstone,  its 
edge  is  guarded  with  the  greatest  care,  and  al- 
though other  tools  are  handy,  the  axe  alone  is 
equal  to  all  the  requirements  of  building  woods' 
structures  and  operating  them.  We  used  to 
think  that  John  had  no  razor,  although  he  al- 
ways kept  clean  shaven. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  John,  that  you  have  cut 
enough  wood  to  do  our  cooking  for  a  good 
many  days." 

"  So  I  have,  Mr.  Hardy,  but  we  need  about 
all  of  that  birch  in  place  of  blankets  to-night. 
Can't  carry  blankets  on  a  raidin'  trip  like  this, 
and  besides,  with  a  good  fire  at  your  feet  and 
your  head  and  shoulders  wrapped  in  your  coat, 
you  're  as  comfortable  as  blankets  could  make 
you.  Of  course,  somebody  has  to  wake  up 
whenever  the  fire  goes  down  and  kick  it  to- 
gether and  put  on  a  fresh  stick,  and  that  hap- 
pens every  few  hours.  It  's  a  hardship  when 
you  're  not  used  to  it,  for  in  the  mornin'  you 
4  49 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
feel  broke  of  your  rest.  But  it 's  queer  how 
soon  you  get  into  the  habit  and  don't  notice  it. 
I  sometimes  think  that  I  get  up  and  fix  the  fire 
without  wakin'  up  at  all.  When  you  have  an 
axe  and  can  get  yellow  birch,  everything  is  easy, 
and  it  's  better  green  than  when  it 's  seasoned 
for  a  night  fire.  It  's  the  only  tree  I  know  that 
is  good  firewood  when  the  leaves  are  on,  and 
the  bark  is  fine  kindlin'.  I  suppose  it 's  made 
so  on  purpose,  and  made  to  grow  everywhere 
in  these  woods,  on  high  ground  and  on  low 
ground,  always  ready  and  waitin'  for  us  to 
make  ourselves  comfortable  with  an  axe  and  a 
match.  Perhaps  it  '11  be  better  to  have  the  night 
fire  ready  before  we  get  supper." 
With  increasing  wonder  Hardy  watched  this 
operation,  and  when  the  structure  was  built  he 
felt  so  sure  that  everything  was  exactly  wrong 
side  up  that  he  expected  John  to  complete  the 
work  by  tipping  it  bodily  over.  John  had 
placed,  about  three  feet  apart,  as  andirons,  two 
water-logged  pieces  of  balsam.  Spanning  these 
5° 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
were  three  birch  sticks,  closely  laid,  and  two 
more  birch  logs  were  placed  on  top,  rather 
tightly  fitted  into  the  chinks  of  the  logs  below. 
On  top  of  this  compact  mass  he  put  a  few 
handfuls  of  birch  curl  and  an  open  structure 
made  of  the  dry  spruce  kindling-wood. 
"That,"  explained  John,  "  is  a  top  fire.  We  '11 
light  the  curl  just  before  supper  and  have  light 
and  heat  right  away,  without  havin'  to  wait  for 
it  as  you  do  when  the  fire  is  laid  with  the  kind- 
lin'  under  and  the  heavy  wood  above.  Then 
the  top  fire  will  eat  slowly  down  into  the  birch 
and  we  '11  have  a  stiddy  fire  that  '11  last  four 
hours  and  give  about  the  same  amount  of  heat 
all  the  time,  instead  of  blazin'  up  high  and 
drivin'  us  out  of  camp  and  then  burnin'  itself 
out." 

Although  Hardy  was  extremely  anxious  to  help 
in  preparing  the  evening  meal,  he  soon  saw  that 
it  was  a  work  of  art  which  the  self-respecting 
John  took  seriously,  and  that  until  he  had  ac- 
quired skill  by  observation  it  was  better  to  rest 

51 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

and  watch.  As  soon  as  the  cooking-fire  was 
in  good  order  and  a  kettle  of  water  was  swing- 
ing above  it,  John  made  a  careful  toilet.  He 
combed  his  hair,  and  then,  with  shining  face  and 
hands  as  clean  as  soap  and  water  could  make 
them,  he  began  his  work.  A  true  gentleman, 
as  pure  and  wholesome  and  self-respecting  in 
the  wilderness  as  he  would  have  been  among 
the  restraints  of  civilization,  John  sliced  the 
bacon  with  neatness  and  dignity.  He  slightly 
parboiled  the  bacon  before  frying  it.  He  made 
some  crisp  toast  and  poured  over  it  the  con- 
tents of  a  can  of  soft  clams  that  he  had  heated 
and  seasoned.  He  made  a  large  quantity  of 
very  weak  tea,  opened  and  vented  with  the  cor- 
ner of  his  axe  a  can  of  condensed  milk,  and 
then  quite  unnecessarily  asked  Hardy  if  he  was 
hungry  enough  to  eat  something. 
After  breakfast  the  next  morning,  John  devel- 
oped his  plan  for  the  day.  "  I  'm  a-thinkin% 
Mr.  Hardy,  you  'd  like  to  try  your  fly-rod. 
It 's  too  early  for  trout  to  rise,  and  the  river  is 
52 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
too  high,  and  it  has  snow  water  in  it,  but  you 
never  can  tell.  I  have  a  boat  above  here,  hid 
out,  that  I  could  put  in  and  paddle  you  'round 
while  you  see  if  there  's  anything  movin'." 
It  amused  and  mystified  Hardy  to  see  John 
follow  a  straight  course  for  a  long  distance 
through  the  woods,  where  there  were  no  visible 
markings,  and  stop  beside  a  mossy  ridge  upon 
which  pieces  of  bark  and  small  limbs  had  ap- 
parently for  years  been  accumulating.  When 
these  were  brushed  off  the  boat  appeared.  It 
was  rather  heavy  for  a  carry  boat,  but  John 
took  it  without  difficulty  the  short  distance  to 
the  river,  followed  by  his  companion  with  the 
oars  and  thwart. 

Hardy  was  not  a  novice  in  the  use  of  a  fly-rod. 
He  landed  the  flies  lightly  and  drew  them 
slowly  on  the  surface  of  likely  still-waters,  or 
allowed  them  to  be  fidgeted  on  a  rift.  He  made 
no  attempts  to  cast  far,  unless  it  seemed  to  be 
necessary  to  reach  water  where  a  trout  ought 
to  be.  For  half  an  hour  he  patiently  tried  his 

53 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
lures  without  the  reward  of  any  sign  of  life, 
and  without  the  suggestion  of  a  complaint,  for 
he  enjoyed  it.  He  knew  that  he  was  doing 
good  work  and  that  this  was  the  limit  of  his 
responsibility. 

u  Was  there  ever  anything  as  glorious  as  this  ? 
This  purple  morning,  lovely  woods,  and  beau- 
tiful, beautiful  river  ?  I  never  want  to  leave 
it." 

"  Might 's  well  leave  it  now  as  any  time.  You 
can't  ketch  anything,  but  you  can  cast  a  fly.  I 
wonder  if  you  feel  strong  enough  to  take  a  little 
walk.  There  are  two  ponds  a  few  miles  north 
of  here,  I  don't  rightly  know  how  far,  for  I  ran 
on  to  'em  a-puttin'  out  dogs  from  the  other  side. 
I  believe  I  could  find  'em  and  that  you  could 
have  some  fishin',  for  the  trout  most  generally 
come  earlier  in  the  ponds  than  they  do  in  the 
river,  on  the  part  of  the  snow  that  melts  into  the 
river  and  makes  the  trout  think  spring  has  n't 
come.  It  is  n't  so  terribly  much  out  of  our  way 
back,  and  we  can  sure  get  home  by  dark." 
54 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
But  in  this  estimate  John  did  not  allow  enough 
for  vicissitudes  in  a  strange  country,  or  for  the 
aberrations  of  a  tenderfoot.  They  found  what 
even  he  admitted  to  be  "  bad  goin',"  through  a 
stretch  of  burned  ground  which  he  unsuccess- 
fully tried  to  get  around.  Charred  pine  and 
spruce  logs  with  sharp-pointed  limbs  were  hid- 
den in  the  briers  and  fire-weed.  Hardy  re- 
peatedly tore  his  clothes  and  wounded  his  legs 
and  hands,  and  he  had,  too,  an  unformulated 
loss  of  self-respect,  probably  due  to  his  stum- 
bling as  well  as  to  his  blackened  hands  and  face. 
His  shoe-strings  were  an  annoyance,  for  he 
stopped  to  re-tie  them  many  times  before  it 
dully  occurred  to  him  to  tie  them  in  hard  knots. 
His  feet  were  sore  and  he  was  on  the  point  of 
confessing  his  miserable  condition  when  John 
relieved  him  by  saying  :  u  This  is  gittin*  to  be 
a  little  tough,  but  I  see  a  line  of  green  timber, 
and  likely  there  's  water  there  that  helped  to 
stop  the  burnin'." 

It  was  a  relief  to  hear  from  John  that  now  he 

55 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

knew  u  the  lay  of  the  country,  and  we  can't  be 
far  from  the  lake,"  but  nevertheless  it  was  a 
long  distance,  and  it  was  past  noon  when  they 
ate  their  lunch  on  a  jutting  point  opposite  a 
rocky  shoal  in  the  beautiful  mountain  pond. 
There  was  a  great  splash  in  the  water. 
"  Did  you  see  that  ?  "  said  John.  "That  trout 
weighed  a  pound  if  he  weighed  an  ounce.  Get 
your  rod  together  quick.  We  have  time  yet 
to  ketch  a  basketful  and  get  home  before  dark 
if  you'll  jint  up  quick." 

What  pain  is  so  keen,  or  what  misery  so  hope- 
less as  that  which  comes  from  the  conscious- 
ness of  being  a  fool  ?  In  such  a  case  human 
sympathy  is  odious.  Pitying  and  encouraging 
words  are  maddening.  When  Hardy  had  con- 
fessed that  he  did  not  know  where  his  rod  was, 
that  he  had  laid  it  down  somewhere  in  the 
woods,  he  bitterly  resented  John's  mild  attempt 
to  palliate  his  inexcusable  carelessness. 
"  Where  were  you  when  you  felt  it  in  your 
hands  last?" 
56 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
"I  don't  know.  I  had  it  when  we  left  the  boat, 
but  I  stopped  seven  times  in  the  burned  ground 
to  tie  my  shoes,  and  I  fell  down  three  times.  I 
know  I  had  it  in  my  hands  each  time  I  fell 
down." 

"  You  probably  left  it  where  we  rested  in  the 
green  timber,"  said  John,  "  and  I  '11  just  step 
back  and  get  it." 

"  Now,"  said  he,  when  he  returned  with  the 
rod  more  than  an  hour  later,  "  work  pretty  fast, 
if  you  want  to  sample  this  fishin'  and  get  home 
to-night.  It 's  a-goin'  to  rain,  and  there  's  no 
roof  around  here." 

Hardy's  casting  was  not  as  precise  as  the  ex- 
hibition he  had  made  on  the  river.  The  bushes 
interfered  with  the  back  cast,  a  storm  was 
coming  and  the  flurries  of  rising  wind  made  it 
difficult,  but  the  rewards  were  great.  Nearly 
every  successful  cast  brought  an  answer  from 
the  troubled  water,  and  he  had  enough  trout  and 
big  enough  trout  when  John  called  a  halt. 
"  Now  we  are  in  trouble.  That  sky  is  a-goin' 

57 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

to  fall  in,  and  it  '11  be  black  dark  in  an  hour 
from  now." 

The  warning  was  even  shorter  than  that,  for 
they  had  just  reached  the  outlet  and  stood  by  a 
riven  pine,  when  a  record-breaking  downpour 
of  rain  came  upon  them.  They  were  quick- 
ly soaked,  and  John  prophesied,  "  It  '11  keep 
a-comin'  all  night."  To  Hardy  the  situation 
seemed  hopeless,  and  it  was  not  softened  by  re- 
membering that  it  was  due  to  the  delay  caused 
by  his  own  carelessness  with  his  rod.  But 
John  rose  to  the  emergency.  He  seemed  to 
love  trouble. 

"  Put  your  waterproof  over  that  pack-basket, 
Mr.  Hardy.  We  have  n't  much  there  to  eat, 
but  we  want  to  keep  what  there  is.  This  don't 
look  very  promisin',  but  there  's  no  place  in  the 
woods  where  you  can't  get  comfort  if  you  hev 
an  axe  and  matches." 

Hardy  stood  in  the  downpour  and  watched, 
and  helped  handily  wherever  he  could,  while 
John  with  his  axe  quickly  girdled  a  large 

58 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
spruce,  making  one  cutting  near  the  ground 
and  a  second  one  as  high  as  he  could  reach  ; 
and  then  with  a  long  wedge,  which  he  called 
a  "  spud,"  made  from  a  sapling,  prized  the 
sheet  of  bark  from  the  tree.  He  secured  sev- 
eral of  these  sheets. 

Like  a  shop  foreman,  who  knows  exactly 
where  each  tool  is,  and  where  the  raw  material 
is  stored,  John  went  without  hesitation  to  a 
bunch  of  second  growth  in  a  near-by  windfall 
and  chose  and  cut  two  birch  saplings  whose 
main  crotches  were  about  six  feet  from  the 
ground.  He  quickly  cut  and  trimmed  an  arm- 
ful of  poles  of  various  sizes,  which  Hardy  helped 
to  carry  in.  He  planted  the  birch  saplings  in 
the  duff,  four  feet  apart,  and  drove  them  until 
the  crotches  were  only  four  feet  high.  A  short 
cross-bar  was  put  in  the  crotches,  and  the  fa- 
cade was  complete.  Two  strong  poles,  eight 
feet  long,  sloped  from  each  crotch  downward 
and  backward,  parallel  to  each  other,  to  where 
they  were  embedded  in  the  duff.  A  few  poles 

59 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 

were  laid  on  this  wedge-shaped  frame  to  sup- 
port the  sheets  of  bark  that  were  put  on  it.  A 
sheet  of  bark  was  braced  to  each  side  and  part- 
ly supported  by  a  few  armfuls  of  moss  which 
were  packed  against  them,  and  the  one-night 
stand  was  complete.  It  was  made  by  a  man 
with  an  axe. 

It  seemed  barely  possible  for  two  men  to  get 
cover  and  to  sleep  comfortably  in  this  little 
camp,  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  the  sponge 
inside  the  camp  was  reeking  with  rain  water 
and  that  their  clothing  was  equally  wet. 
"  That 's  easy,"  said  John,  "  if  we  can  get  fire." 
He  cut  up  two  young  birch-trees,  but  did  not 
split  the  logs,  leaving  the  bark  to  keep  the  wood 
dry.  Hardy  gathered  from  the  dry  side  of  a 
huge  birch-tree  as  much  of  its  resinous  bark,  or 
"curl,"  as  he  could  protect  with  his  water- 
proof until  it  was  under  the  shelter  of  the  camp. 
Then  John  cut  out  of  the  dead  riven  pine,  slabs 
and  slivers  for  kindling,  which  Hardy  hastily 
put  under  cover.  When  all  was  ready  for  the 
60 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
fire,  he  held  up  a  sheet  of  bark  as  a  roof  while 
John  started  the  tiny  flame.  When  the  heat 
became  intolerable  John  made  another  roof  for 
it  of  heavy  spruce  boughs,  which  deflected 
enough  rain  to  protect  the  now  increasing  fire. 
This  was  slow  work, and  it  was  late  in  the  even- 
ing when  the  camp  was  dried  by  the  roaring  fire 
in  front  of  it,  the  supper  of  trout,  bacon,  and 
tea  cooked  and  eaten,  their  clothes  hung  inside 
the  shelter,  steaming  before  the  fire,  and  the 
two  sportsmen,  in  their  first-birthday  suits, 
were  comfortably  smoking  while  the  rain  con- 
tinued to  come.  Perfect  comfort  came  later, 
won, as  John  had  said,  with  an  axe  and  a  match. 
With  dried  clothes  in  a  dry  camp  they  watched 
the  fire  and  exultingly  listened  to  the  rain. 
"  Rain  leaves  you  in  better  shape  than  salt  wa- 
ter does,"  said  John.  "  At  Fort  Fisher  we  had 
to  dry  out  without  any  fire." 
"  Were  you  in  the  Civil  War  ?  " 
«  All  through." 

Sleep  was  beginning  to  have  charms  for  Har- 

6t 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

dy,  but  stories  of  the  Civil  War  had  a  fascina- 
tion which  he  never  resisted. 
"  Tell  me  what  you  did  at  Fort  Fisher." 
"  I  did  n't  do  much  in  the  first  attack,  nor  very 
much  in  the  second  one.  General  Butler  sent 
our  regiment  ashore  in  surf-boats  and  of  course 
we  were  soaked.  We  crawled  up  in  the  night 
pretty  near  to  the  stockade  of  the  fort  and  lay 
there  without  a  sound,  about  as  uncomfortable 
as  men  could  be,  waitin'  and  hopin'  for  an  order 
to  rush  the  fort  and  get  warm.  Then  we  got  an 
order  to  march  back  to  the  boats,  and  that 's  all 
I  know  of  the  first  attack  on  Fort  Fisher." 
John's  story,  as  he  told  it,  was  much  longer 
than  this,  and  Hardy  was  now  really  sleepy. 
Nevertheless,  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
to  start  John  on  the  story  of  the  second  attack 
on  Fort  Fisher. 

"  General  Terry  commanded  us  the  second 
time.  I  only  know  the  part  of  it  I  was  in.  The 
fort  was  full  of  Johnnies  when  we  got  there, 
and  our  company  was  ordered  to  make  holes 
62 


A  MAN  WITH  AN  AXE 
through  the  stockade,  on  the  part  of  our  all  be- 
in'  woodsmen  and  handy  with  an  axe  and  a 
rifle.  The  Rebels  had  a  mean  way  of  hangin' 
their  rifles  over  the  top  of  the  stockade  andspat- 
terin'  us  while  we  were  choppin'.  So  we  paired 
off,  one  man  to  chop  and  the  other  to  watch  with 
a  rifle.  Billy  Drew  and  I  were  partners.  He 
did  the  shootin'  while  I  did  the  chopping  and  he 
always  claimed  that  he  had  good  luck.  When 
I  got  an  openin'  we  went  in  to  see  what  was 
goin'  on  and  we  saw  a  white  flag  and  felt  pretty 
good.  There  was  a  good  deal  goin'  on,  on  the 
parade-ground,  so  Billy  and  I  kep'  together  and 
walked  along  by  the  bomb-proofs,  till  a  Rebel 
captain,  who  had  n't  heard  about  his  surrender, 
suddenly  jumped  out  and  knocked  Billy  down 
with  the  butt  of  his  revolver.  He  was  so  spry 
that  before  I  could  turn  my  musket  he  had  an 
under  holt  on  me  and  we  rassled  —  " 
John's  story  was  stopped  by  a  sound  not  unlike 
the  soughing  of  the  pines.  Nature's  sweet  re- 
storer was  wrestling  with  Hardy. 

63 


THE   TWO   LONS 

FOR  a  fortnight  they  had  been  carrying 
brook  trout  from  the  hatchery  and  set- 
ting them  free  in  the  streams.  Every 
morning  the  train  of  men  started  soon  after 
daylight,  each  man  carrying  a  ten-gallon  tin 
can,  slightly  concave  on  the  inside  next  to  the 
back,  and  supported  by  two  broad  straps,  which 
started  from  the  middle  of  the  inside  upper  rim. 
Each  strap  passed  forward  over  a  shoulder  and 
returned  under  the  arm  to  where  it  was  again 
attached  to  the  lower  inside  corners  of  the  can. 
A  pack-basket  is  strapped  in  the  same  way,  but 
a  pack-basket  is  a  joy,  while  a  pack-can  is  some- 
thing else.  The  basket  is  elastic  and,  properly 
adjusted,  it  fits  the  back,  so  that  as  the  carrier 
leans  slightly  forward  the  pressure  of  the  load 
is  taken  somewhat  evenly  along  the  back  and, 
64 


THE    TWO    LONS 

through  the  straps,  upon  the  shoulders.  An 
ordinary  man  with  some  training  carries  forty 
pounds  easily  and  learns  to  love  his  pack,  while 
a  trained  woodsman  does  not  usually  begin  to 
formulate  his  objections  until  he  has  been  loaded 
beyond  seventy  pounds.  A  pack-can,  with  four 
gallons  of  water  in  which  four  or  five  thousand 
trout  fry  are  taking  their  first  long  journey,  is 
an  uncompromising,  ill-behaving  load.  Hardy 
faithfully  performed  his  new  duties,  carrying 
his  water  load  sometimes  as  far  as  ten  miles 
with  the  rest  of  the  carriers,  and  returning  to 
the  hatchery  the  same  day;  but  the  first  week 
was  a  week  of  trials.  His  easy,  swinging,  ath- 
letic walk  was  not  adapted  to  the  service.  He 
was  a  race  horse  hitched  to  a  plow.  He  had 
to  learn,  and  he  did  learn,  to  walk  straight,  with 
no  side  motion  ;  to  plant  his  foot,  bearing  on 
the  sole  more  than  on  the  heel,  with  the  toes 
pointing  exactly-forward,  so  as  to  make  his  foot- 
prints nearly  tandem.  Any  variation  from  this 
way  of  walking  sent  thirty  pounds  of  water 
S  65 


THE   LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

surging  from  side  to  side  and  developed  many 
foot-pounds  of  energy  which  he  must  bracehim- 
self  to  counteract. 

When  he  had  learned  to  walk  in  this  Indian 
fashion,  he  wondered  why  any  one  should  ever 
have  been  taught  to  walk  in  any  other  way.  He 
soon  learned  that  he  could  walk  a  log  spanning 
a  stream  with  confidence  and  certainty,  that  he 
made  less  noise  and  gathered  less  dew  from  the 
moose  maples  and  witch  hopples  that  hovered 
to  the  edge  of  the  narrow  trails,  and  that  after 
a  long  tramp  he  still  had  something  left  in  him. 
John  was  not  often  with  the  carrying  party ; 
he  had  other  duties  ;  but  Hardy  was  conscious 
of  being  carefully  looked  over  every  night  by 
his  watchful  guardian,  who  asked  fewquestions, 
but  was  prompt  in  diagnosis  and  with  remedies. 
For  the  bodily  damage  done  by  the  can  and  the 
straps  before  he  became  hardened,  John  had 
an  infallible  ointment,  made  from  an  infusion 
of  St.  John's-wort  flowers  in  lard,  The  heal- 
ings were  quick,  but  this  healthy  young  man 
66 


THE    TWO    LONS 

was  a  splendid  patient.    He  rebelled  once  when 
John  offered  him,  as  he  came  in  tired  and  hun- 
gry, a  teaspoonful  of  powder  grated  from  the 
root  of  the  moccasin  flower. 
"  What  is  that  good  for,  John  ?  " 
"  It  stiddies  the  nerves.    It  would  make  a  crazy 
woman  set  still." 

"  Then  it  is  not  what  1  want.  I  want  to  swim 
in  the  river,  and  then  I  want  food." 
u  That 's  a  good  sign,  but  I  am  a-thinkin',  Mr. 
Hardy,  that  change-works  would  be  good  for 
you,  if  you  won't  take  the  moccasin  root.  I 
have  an  errand.  Lon  Yule,  over  on  IndianLake, 
has  a  boat  that  I  want.  It 's  a  'leven-foot-bot- 
tom  carry-boat,  with  spruce  oars,  that  Dwight 
Grant  built  for  him  last  winter.  It  weighs 
forty  five  pounds,  yoke  and  all.  It  's  too  light 
for  him,  but  it 's  just  what  I  want.  I  hear  that 
he  upset  a  sportsman  the  other  day,  and  I  lay 
he  '11  sell  it  for  forty  dollars.  Would  you  like 
to  go  and  buy  it  ?  " 
There  was  never  any  question  as  to  Hardy's 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
willingness  for  a  new  experience,  and  he  ex- 
pressed his  eagerness  to  go. 
"  The  river  trail  to  the  big  bend  that  we  call 
the  Devil's  Elbow  is  pretty  good  goin',  but  it 
must  be  a  matter  of  seven  miles.  You  can't 
miss  it  if  you  are  careful.  The  blazes  are  old, 
but  they  're  all  there,  and  you  stick  right  to  'em, 
even  if  they  do  seem  to  lead  back  from  the  river 
most  of  the  time.  The  river  is  crooked,  and 
besides,  the  best  goin'  is  generally  back  on  the 
slopes  and  the  ridges.  When  you  get  to  the 
Elbow  you  '11  know  it,  because  the  trail  ends 
there.  At  this  stage  of  water  you  can  wade 
across,  but  I  think  you  '11  find  it  more  comfort- 
able to  take  your  stockin's  out  of  your  shoes 
before  you  wade,  and  put  'em  on  dry  when  you 
get  across,  for  you  have  three  miles  further  to 
go  on  the  trail  that  leads  to  Lon's  place  on 
Indian  Lake.  You  speak  my  name  to  Lon  and 
he  '11  treat  you  right.  If  I  should  go  he  'd  know 
just  what  I  come  for  and  his  boat  would  come 
dear.  With  your  college  education  you  can 
68 


THE    TWO    LONS 

do  better  than  I  can.  When  you  buy  it,  you 
might  hire  Lon  to  carry  it  back  as  far  as  the 
Elbow  and  put  it  away  careful  in  the  shade 
where  nobody  '11  run  on  to  it,  but  be  sure  and 
remember  where  you  put  it.  Be  careful  to 
stand  the  oars  with  the  handles  up  in  the  thick 
branches  of  a  balsam  or  hemlock,  so  hedge- 
hogs can't  reach  the  handles  and  gnaw  'em." 
"  What  are  hedgehogs  good  for,  John  ?  " 
"  I  wish  I  knew,  and  if  I  ever  find  out  I  '11  get 
somebody  to  start  a  factory  and  gether  'em  all 
in  and  work  'em  up.  A  scientific  party,  I  don't 
rightly  know  what  his  speciality  was,  come 
here  last  year  and  he  had  a  terrible  curosity. 
He  asked  about  most  everything  and  kep'  me 
so  busy  talkin'  that  I  did  n't  take  notice,  at  first 
of  how  much  he  knew.  Then  the  first  question 
I  asked  him  was  what  hedgehogs  was  good  for. 
I  wrote  down  what  he  said  because  it  was  what 
I  had  thought  of,  but  I  could  n't  have  told  it. 
He  said : 
"  '  I  do  not  know  that  \  but  I  do  know  that  Na- 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

ture  is  perfect  and  that  all  living  things  are 
mutually  dependent.  There  is  a  delicate  bal- 
ance, far  beyond  our  present  understanding, 
which  we  might  disturb  by  exterminating  any 
one  of  God's  creatures/ 

"  That  sounds  true,"  said  John  ;  "  but  there 
must  be  a  mistake  on  the  part  of  hedgehogs,  for 
they  put  in  ten  hours  a  day  lookin'  for  boats 
and  oars  and  camps  to  gnaw  and  destroy." 
"I  think,"  said  Hardy,"that  I  should  very  much 
like  to  make  the  trip  to  Indian  Lake,  and  I  will 
do  my  best  to  make  a  good  bargain  for  you  and 
carry  the  boat  back  to  the  Elbow.  I  shall  not 
need  Lon's  help  in  that,  for  I  have  seen  you 
carry  a  boat  and  I  should  like  to  learn  how  to 
do  it." 

u  There  is  n't  much  to  learn,  except  to  just  do 
it,  and  be  careful.  Always  be  careful  where 
you  step  when  you  have  a  boat  over  your  head, 
for  the  boat  yoke  fits  the  shoulders  and  close 
'round  the  neck,and  if  you  slip  or  stumble  some- 
thin'  will  likely  be  damaged." 
70 


THE    TWO    LONS 

Hardy  started  early  in  the  morning  for  his  first 
long  tramp  alone  in  the  woods,  and  he  was  de- 
lighted to  observe  that  he  was  learning  to  see. 
An  Illinois  boy,  with  a  prairie  training,  he  was 
most  impressed  by  the  exhibit  of  timber  trees, 
but  he  knew  so  little  of  them  that  he  soon  de- 
cided to  save  the  subject  of  woods  botany  for 
camp-fire  talks  with  John.  The  solemn  still- 
ness of  the  woods,  which  he  had  earlier  tried 
to  describe  in  a  letter,  did  not  now  appear  to 
his  better  trained  senses.  The  air  was  full  of 
small  sounds,  and  in  trying  to  locate  and  deter- 
mine them  he  became  involved  in  his  favorite 
diversion. 

"  I  see  a  squirrel  every  ten  steps  that  I  take, 
no,  every  thirty  steps,  but  surely  I  do  not  see 
half  of  them.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  there  is  one 
to  each  fifty  feet ;  one  to  each  twenty-five  hun- 
dred square  feet ;  seventeen  to  the  acre.  I  have 
heard  that  the  State  of  New  York  owns  more 
than  a  million  acres  of  forest ;  more  than  seven- 
teen million  squirrels.  They  ought  to  be  worth 

71 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

as  much  as  a  cent  apiece  ;  an  asset  of  more  than 
$170,000;  but  feres  natures  are  not  a  legal 
asset.  That  is  a  pipe  dream." 
As  he  attentively  watched  for  the  blazes  that 
indicated  the  trail,  he  learned  to  admire  the  in- 
genuity of  the  man  who  had  cut  out  the  small 
chips,  breast  high,  so  as  to  make  the  spot  of 
color,  or  blaze.  In  difficult  country  these  signs 
were  numerous,  but  where  it  was  open  and  the 
trail  was  straight,  the  blazes  were  six  or  eight 
rods  apart.  Nevertheless,  as  he  passed  one  he 
could  always  see  the  next  one  —  if  he  paid  at- 
tention. 

An  unfamiliar  trail  is  always  a  long  one,  for  it 
is  instinctively  measured  by  experiences  and  not 
by  time.    Hardy  saw  deer,  ruffed  grouse,  ducks, 
hedgehogs,  and  a  great  variety  of  smaller  animal 
life,  but  he  probably  did  not  see  one-twentieth 
of  the  animals  that  were  watching  him.      He 
remembered  John's  warning  : 
w  There  's  somethin'  lookin'  at  you  every  step 
you  take." 
72 


THE  TWO  LONS 
In  order  to  see  things  in  the  woods  one  needs 
to  look  specifically  and  not  generally.  A  trout 
is  small  when  seen  from  a  boat  or  from  the 
bank.  He  does  not  need  a  boulder  or  a  log  for 
a  hiding-place,  although  he  may  sometimes  be 
found  near  either  one.  A  stick  or  a  stone  that 
is  just  large  enough  is  good  enough  for  him, 
and  he  seems  to  know  that  it  is  less  obtrusive 
and  less  dangerous  to  lie  quietly  in  the  shadow 
of  a  small  stick,  or  alongside  small  blackened 
stones,  than  in  larger  and  more  strongly  marked 
hiding-places.  In  learning  to  see,  it  is  well  to 
experiment.  Find  a  bank  overhanging  a  likely 
trout  pool ;  or  still  better,  climb  a  few  feet  up 
an  overhanging  tree.  Look  thoroughly,  and 
carefully  count  all  the  trout  in  sight ;  then  wave 
your  hat  violently  and  make  a  fisherman's  guess 
at  the  number  you  may  see  scurrying  away. 
One  person's  eyesight  is  better  than  another's, 
but  the  difference  has  only  a  slight  effect  in  the 
power  of  observation .  The  all-important  qual- 
ity is  the  habit  of  noting  what  is  in  sight,  but 

73 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

to  the  untrained  woodsman  there  is  so  much  in 
sight,  and  so  little  is  known  of  the  leaves  and 
trunks  of  the  timber  trees,  of  the  logs,  rocks, 
and  undergrowth.  He  gazes  broadly  and  his 
eyes  drink  in  the  whole  landscape,  getting  only 
a  slight  taste  of  any  one  of  its  constituents.  As 
the  patient  takes  a  dose  of"  Warbourg's  Tinc- 
ture," which  is  said  to  be  a  blend  of  sixty-four 
separate  drugs,  and  which  has  but  one  flavor  — 
a  vile  one — so  does  the  young  deer-hunter 
win  noisily  through  bad  going  to  an  open  space 
and  study  the  landscape  in  the  large.  He  does 
not  know  the  leaves  or  their  colors.  He  does 
not  note  one  that  is  in  plain  sight  a  dozen  rods 
off,  of  slightly  different  color,  shape,  and  size 
from  any  that  ever  grew  on  a  tree.  It  is  a 
deer's  ear,  and  the  ever  alert  animal  has  heard, 
or  smelled,  or  seen  him.  He  will  stand  still 
until  some  one  or  all  of  his  senses  tell  him  where 
his  disturber  is  and  that  it  is  a  man.  He  may 
then  noiselessly  steal  away  and  leave  only  a 
fresh  track  to  interest  the  sportsman,  or  he  may 
74 


THE    TWO    LONS 

defiantly  romp,  bounding  over  the  undergrowth 
and  showing  a  white  flag  to  the  mortified  still 
hunter. 

Still  hunting  is  perhaps  the  best  possible  train- 
ing in  the  art  of  seeing.  "  Good  form  "  con- 
sists in  lifting  the  foot  at  each  step  as  high  as 
the  knee  and  then  slowly  pushing  the  toe  for- 
ward over  the  witch  hopples,  and  insinuating 
it  gently,  without  sound,  through  small  obstruc- 
tions to  the  next  footstep  on  the  ground ;  al- 
ways looking  ahead  through  small  openings 
for  small  unusual  spots ;  peering  over  ridges, 
or  resting  in  cover  where  the  open  can  be  mi- 
nutely studied.  The  pace  is  not  rapid,  perhaps 
half  a  mile  an  hour,  and  in  stealing  along  noise- 
lessly the  attitudes  are  absurd,  but  there  are  no 
onlookers  except  wild  animals. 
The  pleasure  of  being  a  sleuth  hound  and  an  as- 
sassin is  keen  at  first,  but  it  is  not  lasting.  The 
best  preparation  for  making  every  day  and  hour 
in  the  woods  a  recreation,  a  training-school 
in  self-help,  patience,  generosity,  and  religion, 

75 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
is  to  study  and  observe  closely  the  form  and 
growth  of  every  tree  and  smaller  plant,  the 
habits  and  motives  of  every  animal.  Seeing 
with  knowledge  is  quite  different  from  ignorant 
looking. 

Hardy  had  a  thrill  of  pleasure  when  the  trail 
opened  out  at  the  great  Elbow  of  the  river.  It 
was  his  first  landmark  and  he  had  made  it  surely, 
and  all  by  himself.  He  crossed  the  broad 
beautiful  rift  easily,  and  as  he  was  told  to  do 
it.  He  poured  the  water  from  his  shoes,  re- 
stored his  dry  stockings,  and  tramped  merrily 
on.  "  Wet  leather  is  good  leather,"  and  he  felt 
refreshed.  When  he  came  to  the  lake,  he  swung 
along  the  beach  toward  the  boat-house  that  had 
been  described  to  him,  and  felt  half  mortified 
when  he  noted  that,  long  before  he  saw  her,  he 
had  been  seen  from  the  cabin  and  studied  by  a 
woman's  eye.  The  other  eye  and  the  portly 
form  of  Mrs.  Yule  were  characteristically  with- 
drawn from  the  open  doorway. 
John's  name,  when  he  mentioned  it  by  way 


THE    TWO    LONS 

of  introduction  of  himself,  caused  a  ripple  of 
pleasant  recognition,  a  ripple  not  limited  to  her 
countenance,  but  expanding  into  a  gentle  con- 
vulsionwhich  involved  the  whole  quakingmass. 
He  felt  that  he  was  distinctly  well  received,  al- 
though the  taciturn  Alonzo,  when  he  appeared, 
was  not  at  all  demonstrative.  He  had  been 
warned  that  "Lon  is  slow  gettin'  acquainted," 
so  he  made  advances  cautiously,  determined  to 
give  to  this  forty-dollar  purchase  his  finest 
diplomatic  effort.  The  present  duty  is  the  all- 
important  one.  Mrs.  Lon  seemed  to  be  her 
husband's  facsimile  in  size  and  weight,  and  his 
opposite  in  all  other  qualities.  The  supper  was 
abundant  and  the  interval  to  bed-time  was  short. 
Hardy  noted  that  while  Lon,  in  brief  statements 
of  his  own  experiences,  carefully  repressed  all 
indications  of  his  skill  or  strength,  nevertheless 
his  massive  helpmate  always  affectionately  and 
ingeniously  brought  into  the  open  these  qualities 
which  he  undoubtedly  possessed. 
Hardy  had  acquired  the  early-rising  habit,  and 

77 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

soon  after  daylight  he  was  in  the  boat-house  to 
quietly  inspect  the  subject  of  his  embassy.  He 
saw,  resting  in  stalls  or  pockets  made  of  smooth 
poles,  boats  which  to  his  unaccustomed  eye 
seemed  to  be  duplicates  of  each  other.  The 
stern  and  bow  were  alike  and  were  decked  for 
a  foot  or  so  from  the  stem  toward  the  waist. 
The  gunwale  lines  swelled  sharply  out  from 
the  bow  and  ran  to  amidships  in  a  gradually 
softened  curve,  becoming  nearly  but  not  quite 
straight  lines.  They  exactly  repeated  them- 
selves from  there  to  the  stern.  Hardy  could  not 
discover  a  straight  line  in  the  hull.  It  was  a 
tangle  of  beautiful,  varying  curves,  the  result 
of  lives  of  study  by  skilful  designers  and  expert 
woodsmen.  The  strips  of  quartered  pine  that 
formed  the  graceful  shell  were,  in  places,  less 
than  an  eighth  of  an  inch  thick.  Each  strip 
had  been  chisel-edged  and  perfectly  matched, 
and  riveted  to  its  adjoining  strip  as  it  had  been 
moulded  and  screwed  to  the  spruce  knees  which 
had  been  fashioned  to  model  the  boat.  The 


THE    TWO    LONS 

matching  and  finishing  had  been  so  perfectly 
done  that  the  joints  were  not  visible  to  him. 
The  surface  was  leathery  ;  it  was  a  dainty, 
graceful,  and  seaworthy  boat,  — 

"  Built  for  freight,  and  yet  for  speed, 
A  beautiful  and  gallant  craft." 

Its  place  was  on  the  water,  right  side  up,  but  it 
was  well  within  an  ordinary  man's  capacity  to 
carry  one  of  them  bottom  side  up,  over  the 
head,  balanced  at  the  centre  on  a  wooden  yoke 
carved  out  to  fit  the  shoulders. 
No  man  can  be  said  to  have  invented  or  de- 
signed the  carry-boat,  for  it  has  been  a  slow 
development,  with  improvements  suggested  by 
use.  A  man  can  carry  for  a  short  distance 
a  pointed  scow  that  may  weigh  two  hundred 
pounds  and  be  capable  of  transporting  four 
men  comfortably.  Light  canoes  can  be  easily 
carried  by  one  man,  but  those  that  are  light 
enough  for  this  purpose,  being  designed  for 
movement  by  a  paddle  instead  of  by  oars,  are 
necessarily  unseaworthy,  even  in  small  waters. 

79 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
A  light  canoe  is  a  pleasure  toy,  quite  unsatis- 
factory for  most  sporting  purposes. 
The  designing  of  a  boat  fitted  with  oars  and 
a  carrying  yoke  seems  to  have  been  begun 
seriously  by  different  persons -after  the  year 
1860.  In  1865  it  was  best  known  as  the 
"  Saranac  boat."  The  bow  alone  was  pointed, 
the  gunwale  lines  tapering  inward  on  nearly 
a  straight  line  from  amidships  to  a  narrow, 
square  stern.  They  were  clinker-built,  of  thin 
boards,  each  of  whose  lower  edges  lapped  over 
the  board  next  below.  They  rarely  weighed 
less  than  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds; 
they  leaked  after  much  exposure  to  the  sun  and 
wind ;  but  they  were  swifter  and  more  stanch 
than  any  canoe  of  similar  weight,  and  the  de- 
signers were  on  the  right  track. 
Since  then  it  has  been  a  pretty  race  in  com- 
petitive designing  by  men  who  have  used  the 
boats  as  well  as  built  them  ;  sturdy,  ingenious 
woodsmen  who  generously  applauded  each 

other's  successes.     One  of  them  was  easily  a 
80 


THE    TWO    LONS 

leader,  for  all  got  their  best  suggestions  from 
Henry  Dwight  Grant.  Hulls  have  been  built 
of  canvas,  paper,  aluminum,  rawhide,  Spanish 
cedar,  and  pine  ;  but  there  is  nothing  like  pine, 
and  it  should  come  from  the  region  of  the 
Great  Lakes.  It  must  be  the  very  old  white 
pine  that  is  called  u  cork  pine,"  or  "  pumpkin 
pine."  It  has  narrow  sapwood.  It  is  received 
in  huge  planks,  five  or  six  inches  thick,  each 
containing  two  hundred  or  more  feet,  board 
measure,  and  the  honest  builder  overhauls  many 
of  them  to  get  and  use  one  that  is  absolutely 
free  from  shakes  and  knots,  straight-grained 
and  strong.  Then  the  planks  are  "  quartered ;  " 
strips  from  a  quarter  to  an  eighth  of  an  inch 
thick  rived  out  on  a  line  toward  the  heart  of 
the  tree.  These  are  slowly  seasoned  and  tested ; 
and  only  the  perfect,  toughest  strips,  selected  by 
a  master,  should  be  used.  A  fourteen-foot  ship 
that  weighs  only  sixty  pounds  and  carries  a 
thousand  pounds  of  load  over  rough  water; 
which  is  safe  ;  which  travels  easily  faster  than 
6  81 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
four  miles  an  hour ;  which  never  leaks ;  and 
which  lasts,  with  ordinarily  good  care,  for 
twenty  years,  —  needs  to  be  made  by  a  man 
who  knows  how,  and  who  is  passionately  fond 
of  being  honest. 

Hardy  turned  from  his  study  of  the  boats  and 
stood  on  the  landing  platform.  The  morning 
light  and  the  yellow  sand  gave  to  the  water  the 
color  and  glow  of  melted  gold,  It  was  irresist- 
ible ;  he  took  off  his  clothes  and  dove  into  the 
amber  bath.  He  dearly  loved  water  and  sun- 
light, and  he  had  discovered  the  charm  of  being 
absolutely  alone.  He  had  the  world  to  himself, 
and  no  one  saw  him.  He  had  noticed,  resting 
on  wooden  pins  on  the  boat-house  wall,  a  fly- 
rod,  strung  up  and  ready  for  use.  If  the  trout 
had  arrived  on  the  shoals  they  would  surely 
come  to  this  amber  water.  Everything  was 
coming  his  way  this  morning,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  had  fastened  a  good  trout.  He 
was  in  no  mood  to  hurry  or  to  end  his  pleasure, 
so  he  played  him  long  and  carefully.  He  finally 
82 


THE    TWO    LONS 

led  him  to  a  smooth  beach,  giving  the  butt  so 

that  the  spring  of  the  rod  kept  a  uniform  and 

gentle  tension,  holding  up  the  fish's  head  so  that 

his  struggles  caused  him  to  travel  slowly  and 

surely  from  the  water  to  a  quiet  rest  high  up  on 

the  beach. 

"  Good  work  !  " 

He  was  not  alone,  for  the  two  Lons,  as  he 

named  to  himself  this  matched  pair,  were  more 

than  filling  the  cabin   doorway,  from  which 

they  had  artlessly   watched  and  enjoyed  his 

morning  diversions. 

After  breakfast,  when  Hardy  was  considering 

a  natural  and  easy  opening  of  the  subject  of  his 

mission,  Alonzo  was  moved  by  the  morning's 

event  to  be  communicative. 

"  That  fly-rod  was  left  by  a  young  feller  who 

was  here  a  spell  ago.     You  can  handle  it,  but 

he  could  n't.     He  was  all  for  fly-fishin'.      I 

took  him  to  the  creek  and  he  kep'  me  a-climbin' 

trees  for  his  leader  all  day.      Could  n't  get  his 

flies  in  the  water  very  often,  and  I  told  him  he 

83 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

stood  to  ketch  more  birds  than  fish.  Nothin' 
would  do  but  I  must  take  him  where  he  could 
fly-fish  from  a  boat,  so  I  put  the  raider  over 
my  head  and  took  him  to  Round  Pond.  I  set 
in  the  stern  and  paddled  with  him  in  the  bow, 
facin'  forrad.  He  throwed  a  fly  with  his 
whole  body  and  kep'  the  gunwales  dippin',  but 
whenever  he  drawed  back  to  throw  I  flatted  the 
blade  of  my  paddle  on  the  water  and  managed 
to  keep  her  right  side  up.  Then  he  said  his 
legs  cramped  and  he  wanted  to  stan'  up." 
"Stan*  up  in  a  'leven-foot  boat !"  Mrs.  Lon 
chorused. 

"  I  told  him  I  was  willin'  to  try  it  if  he  was, 
and  we  done  it,  but  it  was  a  chore.  I  spatted 
the  flat  of  the  paddle  on  the  water,  first  on  one 
side  of  the  boat  and  then  on  the  other,  until  I 
was  about  to  give  it  up,  when  he  sot  down  and 
said  I  did  n't  seem  to  know  how  to  hold  a  boat 
stiddy  for  a  man  that  was  fly-castin'.  Said  I 
let  the  boat  roll  so  's  't  he  could  n't  do  real  fine 
work.  Pretty  soon  he  had  a  new  idee,  for  he 
84 


THE    TWO    LONS 

was  pretty  near  crazy,  seein'  the  trout  bilin'  all 
around  us  and  jumpin'  for  his  flies,  that  were 
most  of  the  time  tangled  or  caught  in  the  back 
of  his  shirt.      He  said  he  could  put  a  fly  jest 
where  he  wanted  to,  if  he  could  only  set  where 
his  feet  wa'n't  cramped  under  the  forrad  deck. 
" c  Let  me  set  right  up  on  the  deck,'  says  he, 
1  with    my  legs  hangin'  over  forrad,  and  I  '11 
show  you  how  to  ketch  them  fish  ! ' 
" c  No,  you  won't,'  says  I,  for  I  was  'most  be- 
ginnin'  to  get  mad. 
"  '  Be  you  a  coward  ? '  says  he." 
"  Ast  Lon  if  he  was  a  coward  !  "  chorused 
Mrs.  Lon  with  indescribable  scorn. 
"  '  No,  I  ain't  a  coward,'  says  I ;  c  you  set  there, 
damn  you  !'    So  he  slid  his  feet  forrad  and  sot 
on  the  deck,  and  I  folded  my  arms  and  smoked 
my  pipe,  and  the  boat  went  bottom  side  up,  as 
of  course  I  knew  it  would.  He  come  up,  holdin' 
his  rod. 

u  '  Can  you  swim  ? '  says  he. 
"  '  No,  I  can't,'  says  I, '  but  you  keep  away  from 

85 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

me  and  go  to  the  bottom  or  go  ashore,  I  don't 
care  which.'  So  he  swum  off  and  I  straddled 
my  boat  and  paddled  ashore  with  my  hands." 
Again  Mrs.  Alonzo  was  anxious  to  show  off 
her  partner.  u  You  did  n't  let  your  pipe  go  out, 
did  you,  Lon  ? " 

"  No,  my  pipe  did  n't  go  out,  but  it  was  as  much 
as  that  'leven-fbot  boat  could  do  to  keep  it 
dry.  It 's  rather  light  for  me." 
Lon  had  himself  made  the  opening  and  a  few 
minutes  later  he  no  longer  owned  the  eleven- 
foot-bottom  carry-boat. 

The  oars  were  laid  in  the  boat,  with  the  han- 
dles forward  and  the  blades  aft,  and  tied  fast 
with  buckskin  thongs.  The  yoke  was  set  in 
its  notches  inside  each  gunwale  and  made  fast 
with  thongs.  Hardy  tucked  his  hat  and  coat 
under  the  forward  deck  and  then  carefully  imi- 
tated the  form  he  had  watched  but  had  never 
before  attempted.  He  stood  at  the  starboard 
side  and,  leaning  over  the  boat,  grasped  the  port 
gunwale  with  his  right  hand,  the  starboard  gun- 
86 


THE    TWO    LONS 

wale  with  his  left  hand,  and  lightly  lifted  the 
boat  over  his  head.  When  the  yoke  nestled 
to  a  firm  bearing  on  his  shoulders,  he  cheer- 
fully said  good-bye  and  strode  off  on  the  trail 
with  a  confident  feeling  that  everything  was  all 
right.  Before  he  had  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
he  believed  that  he  had  reached  the  limit  of 
human  endurance.  He  was  partly  suffocated, 
but  he  rested  and  thought  about  it.  His  too 
free  swinging  had  often  shifted  the  yoke  against 
his  neck  and  checked  a  free  circulation,  which 
he  very  much  needed.  After  many  experi- 
ments he  learned  to  carry  easily,  and  although 
he  was  tired,  he  was  not  at  all  exhausted  as  he 
stepped  carefully  down  the  hill  to  the  bend  in 
the  river.  He  found  a  great  deal  of  pleasure 
and  just  a  little  annoyance  in  meeting  John 
there. 

"  Why  did  you  follow  me,  John  ?  I  wanted 
to  do  this  all  alone." 

"  And  so  you  did,  Mr.  Hardy,  and  I  see  you 
done  it  well.  I  knew  you  'd  do  it,  but  I  was 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

a  little  anxious  about  your  carryin'  the  boat. 
It 's  easy  to  strain  an  ankle  or  break  a  leg  un- 
der that  kind  of  load,  and  I  thought  it  would 
do  no  harm  if  I  happened  along  in  case  of 
accidents." 

"  Before  I  came  up  here,"  said  Hardy,  "  Colo- 
nel Warren  told  me  a  story  of  being  watched 
in  this  same  way  when  he  wanted  to  be  alone. 
"  Said  he : 

" c  When  I  had  been  in  the  woods  long  enough 
to  have  some  confidence  in  my  woodcraft,  I 
used  to  leave  my  guide  in  camp  and  hunt  alone. 
My  wife  felt  anxious  about  this,  but  instead  of 
remonstrating  with  me,  she  made  a  private  ar- 
rangement with  my  guide,  George,  so  that  it 
was  extra  money  in  his  pocket  always  to  know 
where  I  was.  I  ought  to  have  guessed  it,  once 
when  I  was  coming  back  on  my  course  and  ran 
on  to  him  and  he  said  he  had  come  out  to  pick 
spruce-gum  to  send  home  to  the  children  ;  and 
another  time  when  he  explained  that  he  was 
looking  for  huckleberries.  This  was  in  Oc- 
88 


THE  TWO  LONS 
tober,  but  I  was  dull.  One  morning  I  laid  out 
enough  work  for  him  at  the  camp  to  keep  him 
busy,  as  I  thought,  most  of  the  day.  I  hunted, 
traveling  very  slowly,  for  perhaps  two  or  three 
hours,  and  in  following  an  old  lumber-road 
came  up  a  hill  to  a  hard-wood  flat,  where  the 
road  was  straight  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  It  was 
a  beautiful  vista,  all  the  more  beautiful  because 
I  could  make  out  a  deer  at  the  end  of  it.  I 
stepped  along  very  quietly,  perhaps  half  the  dis- 
tance, and  what  I  had  imagined  to  be  a  deer 
had  not  moved.  I  went  still  nearer  and  sat 
down  on  an  old  skidway.  It  is  wonderful  how 
a  bunch  of  leaves  or  a  rotten  stump  will  de- 
ceive a  deer-hunter.  I  looked  back  down  the 
long  straight  road  and  fairly  caught  George  this 
third  time.  He  came  on  as  still  as  a  cat,  and 
as  he  sat  down  beside  me  he  whispered,  "  Why 
don't  you  shoot  ?  " 

" 1 1  was  annoyed,  both  because  I  now  knew 
that  he  had  followed  me  and  also  because  my 
dear  old  guide  was  failing,  and  capable  of  being 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
mistaken  andfoolish.  I  showed  him  and  proved 
to  him  that  the  dark  line  which  he  had  mis- 
taken for  a  deer's  back,  with  the  light  bunch  of 
color  which  he  had  mistaken  for  the  deer's  tail, 
was  at  least  nine  feet  high  from  the  ground,  and 
that  nine-feet  deer  were  not  common  in  these 
woods,  and  that,  moreover,  it  had  not  moved 
for  fifteen  minutes.  He  said  that  if  he  was  all 
alone  here  with  a  rifle  he  would  put  a  hole 
through  the  bunch  and  then  go  and  see  what 
had  happened.  This  annoyed  me  exceedingly, 
and  I  presume  I  raised  my  voice  sharply  when 
I  answered  that  twenty-three  other  stark  crazy 
idiots  killed  last  season  twenty-three  innocent 
men,  mistaking  them  for  deer.  At  this,  our 
deer  lifted  up  a  pair  of  horns  with  five  prongs 
each,  and  George  said,  "  He  is  a  good  one  for 
o'  course  he  Js  nine  foot  high." : 


90 


THE  PRAIRIE  BOY 

EE  tne  young  patridges  under  that 
bunch  of  striped  maples,"  said  John. 
u  Two,  three,  four,  five  of  'em,  and 
probably  as  many  more  that  we  can't  see.  See ! 
See  !  Can  you  see  them  ?  " 
"  No,"  said  Hardy,  "  I  can't  make  them  out." 
"  They  're  scatterin'  now,  holdin*  their  heads 
low  and  creepin'  away  under  cover.  The  old 
hen  '11  show  pretty  soon  a  few  rods  off*  and  ap- 
pear to  be  terribly  crippled.  There  she  is  now, 
ahead  on  the  trail." 

u  I  see  her,"  said  Hardy,  "  trailing  one  wing 
and  walking  lame.  She  does  not  seem  to  have 
a  whole  bone  in  her  body.  She  wants  either 
pity  or  pursuit,  and  she  does  not  care  which, 
anything  to  coax  us  to  go  away  and  leave  her 
little  family  alone,  but  it  is  strange  that  I  could 
not  see  the  covey.  Where  were  they  ?  Nearly 

91 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

all  the  undergrowth  around  here  is  young  maple 
and  witch  hopple,  and  I  did  not  know  where  to 
look." 

"  But,"  said  John,  "  that  's  the  only  bunch  of 
striped  maple  in  sight.  Now  look  at  it  close  and 
learn  to  know  it.  It  does  n't  grow  to  be  much 
of  a  tree  ;  I  call  it  a  shrub,  for  I  never  knew  it 
to  grow  to  more  than  three  or  four  inches  thick. 
It  's  a  soft,  brittle  wood  and  seems  to  have  a 
short  life,  but  I  'm  not  sure  about  it.  Of  course, 
you  can't  identify  it  by  its  size,  for  there 's  plenty 
of  moose  maple  and  young  hard  maple  that 's 
just  as  small,  but  you  can  learn  to  know  the 
leaf,  soon  as  you  see  it,  for  it 's  dull-finished, 
while  the  other  maple  leaves  are  bright  and  look 
as  if  they  was  varnished ;  and  besides,  look  at 
the  bark.  It  has  stripes  like  bed-tickin'." 
"  What  is  it  good  for,  John  ?  " 
"Theleaf  isgood  for  inflammationand  swellin's, 
when  you  can't  find  anything  better,  and  it 's 
always  handy  in  the  summer  time.  The  wood 
makes  a  fine  soft  charcoal,  the  best  woods  pen- 
92 


THE    PRAIRIE    BOY 
cil  in  the  world.     The  lumbermen  use  it  for 
markin'  logs,  because  it  's  always  easy  to  get, 
and  the  marks  don't  rub  out.    Now  look  at  this 
moose  maple.    The  bark  is  gray,  and  you  '11  al- 
ways know  it.     See  how  tender  it  is.     See  that 
clump  where  all  the  tender  tops  are  bit  off  by 
deer.     The  deer  must  have  been  here  over  a 
week  ago,  for  the  ends  are  dried.    Moose  maple 
and  tender  tops  of  wild-raspberry  bushes  saved 
my  life  once." 
"  How  was  that,  John  ?  " 
u  'T  was  a  good  while  ago,  when  I  was  quite 
a  small  boy.     I  reckon  I  was  n't  more  'n  twelve 
years  old  when  my  father  sent  me  out  to  bring 
in  some  clean  clothes.     I  knew  the  trail  and 
got  home  all  right.     Next  day  when  I  started 
back,  two  lumbermen  went  with  me  and  they 
said  they  knew  a  short  cut  through  the  woods. 
At  noon  we  stopped  and  ate  all  our  lunch,  and 
the  men  began  to  drink  whiskey  and  would  n't 
move.    I  could  n't  leave  'em,  for  I  did  n't  know 
where  I  was.     They  sang  and  I  cried.     We 

93 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

stayed  there  all  night  and  in  the  mornin'  the 
men  drank  more  whiskey,  and  got  bewildered. 
We  tramped  all  day  with  nothin'  to  eat  and 
laid  out  another  night.  The  third  day  we  kep' 
movin'  until  one  of  the  men  gave  out  and  we 
left  him  by  a  brook  where  he  could  get  water. 
That  night  I  got  afraid  of  the  other  man,  for 
we  were  both  nearly  starvin'  and  he  kep'  lookin' 
at  me.  I  stole  away  from  him  at  daylight  on 
the  fourth  day,  while  he  was  sleeping  and  fol- 
lowed the  brook  all  day,  wherever  I  could  walk. 
I  ate  moose  maple  and  raspberry  tips  and  drank 
water.  JT  was  after  dark  when  I  heard  a  dog 
bark,  and  't  was  the  best  sound  I  ever  heard. 
Seemed  like  a  good  while  before  I  got  to  the 
house  ;  my  clothes  was  tore  to  pieces  and  I 
was  wild  ;  but  I  told  them  there  was  two  men 
up  the  creek  starvin'  to  death  and  then  the  wo- 
man took  care  of  me.  She  was  very  kind,  and 
at  first  wanted  me  to  eat  pie,  but  of  course  I 
could  n't." 

"  What  did  you  eat  first,  John  ?  " 
94 


THE  PRAIRIE  BOY 
"  I  don't  know.  I  was  sick  a  good  while,  and 
they  said  I  kep'  askin'  for  moose  maple. 
"  I  'm  a-thinkin',  Mr.  Hardy,  you  '11  do  well 
to  learn  to  know  timber  trees  by  their  bark  as 
well  as  by  their  leaves,  for  more  'n  half  the  time 
you  have  n't  got  the  hard-wood  leaves  to  go  by. 
Of  course  you  '11  always  know  the  beech,  for 
it 's  gray  and  white  spotted,  young  or  old,  al- 
ways the  same,  but  yellow  birch  may  bother  you 
at  first,  for  it  has  so  many  kinds  of  bark.  Most 
of  the  big  ones  have  a  shaggy  curl  that  looks  as 
if  it  was  just  goin'  to  fall  off,  but  some  of  them 
have  no  curl,  just  flat  scales,  like  fish  scales ; 
only  they  are  three  or  four  inches  long.  And 
the  young  birch  is  silver-gray  and  satiny,  but 
sometimes  it  is  red  as  cherry  for  its  first  few 
years.  I  don't  know  why. 
u  The  hard-maple  bark  cracks  into  narrer  straps 
and  sometimes  looks  a  little  like  black  ash, 
but  you  '11  always  know  black  ash  because  it 
grows  in  swamps  and  most  always  has  moss 
spots,  and  not  always  on  the  north  side  either. 

95 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

All  the  trees  are  fitted  with  a  nice  smooth  coat 
of  bark  when  they  are  young,  but  the  wood 
keeps  a-growin'  inside,  and  the  bark  keeps  a- 
stretchin'  and  crackin'.  They  aint  like  growin' 
boys;  no  matter  how  big  they  get,  they  never 
get  a  new  coat. 

"  Hemlock  bark  is  so  thick  that  it  cracks  deep 
and  looks  like  pine,  but  balsam  bark  is  thinner 
and  has  strong  grains  that  run  around  the  tree 
as  well  as  up  and  down,  so  it  stretches  easy  and 
does  n't  crack  at  all ;  and  you  '11  always  know 
it  by  the  blue-gray  color,  and  the  blisters,  and 
the  smell,  and  by  the  four  or  five  branches 
that  start  out  the  same  height  from  the  ground. 
You  can  always  tell  a  balsam  from  a  spruce  or 
a  hemlock  wayoff,  by  its  sharp-pointed  top.  It's 
easy  to  learn  'em  all,  and  then  you  've  got  some- 
thin'  to  go  by." 

"  I  had  no  chance,"  said  Hardy,  "  to  learn  trees 
when  I  was  a  boy,  but  Professor  Graves  has  told 
me  how  they  grow,  and  it  is  interesting.  Of 
course  you  know  that  a  new  ring  of  wood  is 


THE  PRAIRIE  BOY 
made  every  year  between  the  bark  and  the  old 
wood.  The  roots  gather  sap,  which  is  water 
with  all  sorts  of  raw  food-material  in  it.  The 
sap  is  pumped  up  to  the  leaves  through  the  small 
pipe  lines,  or  ducts,  in  the  sap  wood.  Of  course 
water  does  not  run  up  hill  without  help.  The 
pipe  lines  are  filled  with  cells  and  partitions.  I 
do  not  fully  understand  the  process  by  which 
the  sap  is  drawn  up,  but  it  is  called  '  osmosis.' 
None  of  it  goes  up  in  the  heart  wood.  The  sap 
is  digested  in  the  leaves  by  a  peculiar  chemical 
process.  The  leaves  absorb  carbonic  acid  gas 
from  the  air,  and  the  green  coloring  matter, 
helped  by  the  light,  separates  and  sets  free  the 
oxygen  and  uses  the  carbon  to  digest  the  food 
in  the  sap.  The  digested  sap  then  travels  down 
the  ducts  in  the  inner  bark,  and  all  the  way  down 
it  is  distributed  to  feed  a  layer  of  living  cells, 
called  Cambium,  which  lie  between  the  bark  and 
the  wood.  As  these  cells  are  fed  they  swell  up 
and  divide,and  swell  and  divide  again  until  there 
is  an  enormous  number  of  them ;  and  their  walls 
7  97 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

thicken  and  they  stick  together  and  make  the 
cell  structure  of  the  new  wooden  ring. 
"Of  course  you  can  see  that  the  better  they  are 
fed  the  fatter  they  will  grow,  for  they  are  just 
like  your  baby  trout,  so  that  in  a  good  year  the 
new  wood  ring  may  be  twice  as  thick  as  in  an- 
other year.  It  depends  on  the  rains  and  the 
soil,  and  on  the  amount  of  sunlight  the  leaves 
get.  When  trees  are  close  together  the  lower 
limbs  die,  because  the  sun  cannot  get  at  their 
leaves  and  keep  up  the  digesting  process.  The 
lower  limbs  starve  to  death.  Then  the  tree's 
only  chance  for  life  is  to  race  up  to  where  the 
light  is,  and  it  grows  spindling." 
"  I  Jm  glad  you  told  me  that,"  said  John,  "  but 
I  ought  to  have  found  it  out  — long  as  I  ?ve  been 
in  these  woods.  It  accounts  for  a  plant 's  dy- 
in'  when  bugs  eat  off  the  leaves.  Mr.  Hardy, 
can  you  see  a  reddish  spot  in  the  long  grass  by 
the  river,  about  eighty  rod,  just  at  the  left  of 
the  tallest  tamarack  ?  Now  it 's  movin'  and 
of  course  you  can  see  it.  It 's  a  pretty  big  deer, 


THE    PRAIRIE    BOY 

though  helooks  small  at  that  distance.  Our  trail 
leads  back  in  the  woods  from  here  and  comes 
out  pretty  near  to  where  he  is.  If  we  go  quiet, 
perhaps  he  '11  stay  and  give  us  a  nearer  look 
at  him." 

The  wind  was  right  and  Hardy  had  his  first 
chance  to  study  a  deer  from  near-by.  It  was 
a  buck  "  in  the  red  coat,"  with  horns  "  in  the 
velvet,"  and  to  Hardy  his  most  notable  accom- 
plishment was  his  ability  to  extend  his  neck. 
When  he  reached  for  a  tender  top,  the  neck 
seemed  absurdly  disproportionate  to  the  length 
of  his  body,  and  he  looked  like  a  giraffe.  He 
was  continually  alert.  He  put  his  head  in  the 
shallow  water  and  drew  out  by  the  roots  a  bunch 
of  deer  grass,  which  he  carefully  rinsed  first  and 
then  ate  only  the  tender  parts.  He  was  dainty 
and  he  wanted  variety.  He  studied  the  trees 
and  occasionally  nipped  a  bud.  Where  a  spring 
was  oozing  from  the  bank  he  found  the  celan- 
dine and  ate  it,  flowers,  leaves,  and  stem.  But 
he  was  not  dining  quietly,  for  he  was  quiver- 

99 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
ing  with  fear,  always  watching,  listening,  and 
smelling  for  unknown  dangers.  His  ears  and 
nostrils  were  even  more  occupied  and  active 
than  his  eyes,  and  at  frequent  intervals  he  put 
up  his  head  and  studied  everything  far  and  near. 
"  A  deer's  ears,"  said  John, "  are  his  surest  pro- 
tection. He  can  depend  on  his  nose  only  when 
the  wind  is  right.  His  eyesight  is  no  better 
than  ours,perhaps  not  so  good ;  besides,  he  can't 
see  when  he 's  asleep  ;  but  he 's  never  so  sound 
asleep  that  he  can't  hear  a  footstep  or  a  snappin' 
twig.  After  he  drops  his  horns  about  Christ- 
mas, he  is  dull  and  gets  poor,  and  of  course  the 
does  are  quiet  and  get  poor.  Now,  the  new 
horns  are  growin'  out  and  hardenin'  and  the 
does  are  sucklin'  the  fawns,  and  all  hands  are 
doin'their  level  best  to  get  fat  and  strong  enough 
to  last  through  the  winter,  when  the  snow  is 
deep  and  they  have  to  paw  a  good  while  to  get 
a  mouthful.  Now  is  the  best  time  of  the  year 
to  see  deer,  because  the  deer-grass  and  lilypads 
tempt  'em  into  the  open,  even  in  the  daytime ; 
100 


THE    PRAIRIE    BOY 

though  naturally  they  rest  daytime  and  eat  at 
night.  Toward  the  end  of  August,  the  food 
that  grows  in  water  will  be  too  tough  to  suit 
'em,  and  they  '11  work  in  the  hard-wood  flats  for 
sheep-sorrel  and  tender  plants.  In  September 
they  shed  the  red  hairs,  and  the  velvet  from  the 
horns,  and  come  out  with  smooth  horns  and  a 
blue-gray  glossy  winter  coat.  Later  they  paw 
for  beech-nuts  and  get  fat,  and  in  November 
they  are  on  the  ridges,  fightin'  for  their  lives, 
and  for  their  mates." 

A  woodsman  is  an  accurate  observer  of  facts, 
and  his  few  mistakes  are  apt  to  be  made  when 
he  mixes  them  with  inferences.  John  should 
have  known  that  the  deer's  eye  is  a  larger  and 
more  powerful  seeing  machine  than  ours,  and 
that  he  sorely  needs  this  slight  advantage  in 
competing  with  the  man  who  is  looking  for 
him.  The  hunter  is  trained,  as  is  the  deer, 
by  practice,  but  he  has  also  the  tremendous  ad- 
vantage of  a  fund  of  knowledge  got  from  words 
spoken  and  written.  Nearly  all  that  has  ever 

101 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

been  learned  of  the  habits  of  wild  animals  is 
available  to  him,  while  the  deer's  ancestors  have 
left  no  records.  The  deer  gets  something  from 
the  past  which  we  call  a  mysterious  instinct. 
It  seems  to  consist  of  accidental  developments 
of  power,  and  habits  of  avoidance  of  danger, 
perpetuated  because  those  of  his  kind  that  have 
not  happened  to  develop  them  have  met  early 
death. 

The  hunter  is  looking  intensely  and  carefully 
for  one  thing.  The  deer  is  looking  for  food 
and  for  all  the  dangers  of  which  he  has  inher- 
ited fear,  or  which  he  may  have  learned  to  fear 
during  his  two  years  of  living.  Even  terms  in 
the  matter  of  seeing  would  require  that  the 
hunted  one  should  have  power  of  vision  many 
times  quicker  and  longer  than  the  hunter  has. 
But  seeing  power  has  comparatively  little  to  do 
with  it.  The  photographer  learns  that  a  cheap 
lens  is  nearly  as  quick,  but  not  nearly  so  accu- 
rate, as  a  more  costly  one.  Effective  seeing 
means  definition  and  understanding.  It  needs 
102 


THE    PRAIRIE    BOY 

knowledge,  and  the  deer's  knowledge  is  slight. 
He  is  no  mean  botanist,  geologist,  and  weather 
prophet,  but  his  attainments  are  wonderful  only 
when  we  consider  that  they  are  got  in  a  few 
years  full  of  trouble.  He  may  never  before 
have  seen  a  man,  and  at  the  first  seeing  he  does 
not  always  run  from  him,  although  those  best 
fitted  to  survive  generally  do  run  from  any 
strange  object  that  seems  to  be  capable  of  mo- 
tion. The  fact  that  most  deer  are  not  startled 
at  seeing  a  man  sitting  or  standing  quietly, when 
they  have  no  means  of  knowing  that  he  is  dan- 
gerous, is  often  mistakenly  interpreted  to  mean 
that  man's  eyesight  is  better  than  that  of  a  deer. 
John  did  not  speak  of  the  deer's  yearly  miseries 
in  the  late  winter  and  early  spring  ;  when  deep 
snow  softens  and  freezes  and  traveling  is  diffi- 
cult ;  when  almost  the  only  obtainable  food  is 
the  few  balsam  and  hemlock  or  cedar  tips  that 
can  be  reached ;  and  when  weak  deer  die  of 
starvation  and  the  lives  of  strong  ones  are  short- 
ened. It  is  "  yarding  "  season  ;  not  that  misery 

103 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
loves  company,  but  the  hungry,  miserable  crea- 
tures huddle  in  the  swamps,  where  the  snow 
does  not  drift  and  where  some  protection  and 
a  little  food  can  be  got.  Fewer  deer  are  shot 
in  any  year  than  are  "  winter-killed  "  in  a  bad- 
weather  season. 

It  is  pitiful,  this  suffering  and  decimation,  and 
it  seems  at  first  to  be  a  fault  of  Nature's  order- 
ing that  the  power  to  store  up  food  for  a  hard 
winter  should  not  have  been  given  to  them. 
But  possibly,  having  this  power,  they  would 
crowd  the  woods  and  disturb  the  delicate  bal- 
ance, as  the  trout  would  fill  the  river  and  over- 
flow it  if  all  their  eggs  should  produce  full-grown 
fish.  Nevertheless,when  we  interfere,  and  shoot 
part  of  the  deer,  we  can  well  help  to  protect 
those  that  are  left.  Colonel  Soper,  a  true  lover 
of  the  woods  with  a  heart  full  of  pity,  was  once 
with  difficulty  restrained  from  sending  in  train- 
loads  of  bales  of  hay  and  having  them  dragged 
about  and  distributed  where  deer  are  yarding 
in  hard  winters.  It  would  have  been  a  useless 
104 


THE    PRAIRIE    BOY 

and  probably  a  dangerous  experiment,  but  the 
suggestion  is  inspiring.  Surely  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  travel  on  snow-shoes  with  an  axe 
through  the  valleys  and  swamps  and,  in  likely 
places,  cut  down  young  balsams  and  hemlocks. 
These  are  natural  food,  and  the  axe  easily  puts 
them  within  reach.  Winter-killing  might  be 
nearly  stopped,  but  the  greater  benefit  would  be 
the  increased  strength  of  the  survivors.  There 
would  be  fewer  barren  does  if  they  were  better 
fed. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Hardy,  "  the  number  of 
points  on  each  horn  tells  the  age  exactly  ?  " 
"  I  don't  think  so,  but  of  course  I  'm  not  sure. 
I  know  only  one  certain  case  where  it  was  n't 
true.  I  was  pretty  well  acquainted  with  a  small- 
bodied  buck  for  more'n  two  years,  and  every 
time  I  saw  him  he  had  five  points  on  each  horn, 
and  he  must  have  been  gettin'  older  all  that 
time." 

That  evening  after  supper  they  were  as  usual 
by  the  bonfire, and  were  quietly  smoking.  The 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
firelight  on  the  trees  gave  the  effect  of  an  exact 
semicircle  in  front  of  them,  which  grew  smaller 
and  smaller  as  the  fire  died  down,  and  suddenly 
expanded  and  doubled  in  a  startling  fashion 
when  John  occasionally  kicked  the  logs  to- 
gether or  threw  on  spruce  boughs.  There  were 
long  pauses  in  the  conversation,  but  the  brook 
always  tinkled.  They  were  good  camping  part- 
ners and  loved  to  talk,  but  both  had  learned  to 
give  the  musical  brook  and  the  playing  firelight 
a  chance,  while  they  mused. 
"  You  was  n't  used  to  this  before  you  come 
here,  Mr.  Hardy?" 

"  No,  I  am  a  prairie  boy.  These  are  the  only 
woods  and  mountains  I  ever  saw,  and  I  have 
been  thinking  of  your  story  of  getting  lost  when 
you  were  a  boy." 

"  Of  course  you  can't  get  lost  on  a  prairie  ?  " 
"  Yes,  on  the  prairie  as  it  was  before  the  corn- 
fields came,  you  could  get  lost  and  get  hungry, 
and  have  all  the  hardships  and  dangers,  espe- 
cially prairie  fire." 
106 


THE    PRAIRIE    BOY 

"  Tell  me  about  that,"  said  John  ;  "  I  never  saw 
a  prairie,  for  I  never  was  away  from  these 
woods,  except  during  the  War." 
There  was  a  long  pause,  while  the  brook  talked, 
and  then  Hardy  slowly  began,  measuring  his 
words  and  trying  to  make  clear  to  John  con- 
ditions that  were  entirely  novel  to  him. 
"  A  good  many  years  ago,  a  little  boy  in  north- 
ern Illinois  became  possessed  of  a  single-bar- 
relled, muzzle-loading  shot-gun.  He  loved  it 
and  petted  it  because  it  was  all  his  own.  He 
could  not  hold  it  out  and  sight  it  without  a  rest, 
but  as  he  grew  stronger  and  a  little  older  and 
could  use  it,  he  became  ambitious  to  try  it  on 
real  game.  He  thought  that  perhaps  his  chance 
had  come  when  his  father  was  planning  to  go 
with  a  friend  to  the  big  marsh  for  a  few  days' 
duck-shooting.  He  made  himself  as  useful  as 
possible  in  the  preparations.  He  casually  men- 
tioned that  he  could  build  a  fire  and  could  boil 
potatoes.  He  had  the  good  luck  to  be  able  to 
remind  his  father  that,  in  the  stock  of  ammuni- 

107 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

tion,  percussion-caps  had  been  forgotten.  This 
was,  to  the  old  sportsman,  impressive  thought- 
fulness,  and  it  led  him  to  ask  the  boy  if  he 
would  like  to  go  along.  The  boy  had  what  you 
call  buck-fever,  for  he  had  arrived  at  the  high- 
est peak  of  his  hopes.  He  had  to  swallow  once 
or  twice  before  he  could  say  yes. 
"  The  marsh  was  a  few  miles  wide  and  many 
miles  long  and  was  about  twenty  miles  from  the 
village.  After  leaving  the  fringe  of  farms,  the 
wide  upland  prairie,  only  a  few  feet  above 
the  water-level,  Had  no  houses  or  roads.  You 
traveled  entirely  by  landmarks,  a  distant  meet- 
ing-house spire  or  some  one  of  the  few  groves 
of  trees  that  showed  on  the  horizon-line.  The 
knee-high  prairie  grass  and  the  longer  reeds  in 
the  marsh  made  nearly  a  dead  level,  so  that  the 
marsh  line  was  only  a  color  line. 
"  Tenting  on  the  hard  ground  at  the  edge  of 
the  swamp  was  easy  and  comfortable,  barring 
one  drawback.  There  was  not  much  firewood 
except  dead  willow-twigs,  and  these  had  to  be 
108 


THE  PRAIRIE  BOY 
economized.  The  sportsmen  left  the  little  boy 
alone  in  the  tent  every  morning  about  four 
o'clock  and  went  a  mile  or  so  into  the  marsh 
to  locate  a  fly-way  and  get  the  morning  shoot- 
ing. They  also  went  out  in  the  afternoon  for 
the  evening  shooting,  and  of  course 'did  not  get 
back  to  camp  until  after  dark. 
u  The  first  day  there  were  no  ducks.  The  sec- 
ond day  a  few  were  seen,  but  none  were  killed. 
The  third  day  two  things  happened :  the 
ducks  moved  in  great  numbers,  the  shooting 
was  good  and  it  promised  to  be  very  good,  but 
the  provisions  of  flour,  bacon,  and  potatoes  gave 
out.  Apparently  the  sportsmen  had  not  counted 
on  the  boy's  appetite  and  his  great  opportuni- 
ties to  learn  how  to  cook  when  left  alone  in 
camp. 

ct  Probably  few  sportsmen  were  ever  driven  to 
leave  good  shooting  for  such  a  little  matter  as 
lack  of  variety  in  food.  These  men  stayed  and 
ate  roast  duck  for  their  breakfast.  They  also 
ate  roast  duck  for  dinner.  They  tried  to  eat 

109 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

it  for  supper,  but  they  could  n't  do  it ;  they  had 
had  enough  duck.  Next  morning  they  made 
a  measly  breakfast  on  fried  livers.  At  noon  it 
was  broiled  gizzards ;  and,  from  then  out,  the 
only  part  of  a  duck  they  had  stomach  for  was 
the  gizzard  roasted  in  the  coals  hard  and  black. 
A  man  cannot  live  on  ducks,  and  parched  giz- 
zards, carried  in  his  pockets,  just  barely  beat 
nothing. 

"  Stray  flocks  of  ducks  now  occasionally  flew 
near  the  tent,  and  one  evening  when  the  little 
boy  was  alone,  he  went  into  the  marsh  as  far  as 
he  dared  to  go  and  got  a  few  chances  to  miss. 
The  sun  had  gone  down  and  his  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  wonderful  afterglow.  The 
whole  western  horizon  was  a  rich  dull  red. 
It  was  magnificently  beautiful,  even  to  an  un- 
observant little  boy.  A  little  later,  when  he 
looked,  it  had  crept  higher  and  grown  brighter. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  the  sun  had  changed 
its  mind  and  was  coming  back.  He  had  an  un- 
accountable feeling  that  something  was  wrong, 
no 


THE  PRAIRIE  BOY 
The  color  now  increased  more  rapidly  until  he 
believed  he  could  see  a  fringe  of  smoke  above 
the  glow,  and  finally  the  truth  dawned  on  him. 
He  had  never  been  near  a  prairie  fire,  but  he 
knew  it  by  tradition,  and  this  was  a  great  one 
and  coming  directly  on  him. 
"  He  flew,  as  fast  as  a  very  small  bog-trotter 
could  fly,  from  the  marsh  to  the  tent.  The  fire- 
line  was  well  in  sight  and  extended  right  and 
left  as  far  as  he  could  see.  His  only  thought 
was  to  run,  and  the  only  thing  that  kept  him 
from  running  was  the  conviction  that  he  could 
neither  run  around  it  nor  before  it.  He  was 
baffled,  so  he  threw  himself  on  his  face  and 
cried. 

"  I  think  that  this  soothed  and  steadied  him,  for 
there  gradually  came  into  his  poor  little  addled 
memory  the  stories  he  had  heard  of  fighting  fire. 
He  looked  again,  and  there  was  no  time  to  be 
lost.  From  around  the  tent  he  tore  up  the 
grass  by  the  roots  until  his  hands  were  cut  and 
bleeding.  It  was  too  slow.  He  could  never 

in 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

do  it.  He  could  hear  the  fire  now,  and  the  air 
began  to  be  filled  with  flying  prairie  birds.  He 
could  hear,  and  occasionally  see,  wolves  run- 
ning past,  and  one  almost  brushed  him  as  it 
ran  between  him  and  the  tent. 
"  When  he  recalled  what  little  he  had  heard 
of  back-firing,  it  was  none  too  soon ;  it  was 
almost  too  late.  He  brought  a  blanket  from 
the  tent  and  carefully  fired  the  grass  on  the 
windward  side.  By  thrashing  with  his  blan- 
ket he  tried  to  control  and  guide  his  fire  so  as 
to  burn  a  swath  around  the  tent.  He  had  just 
succeeded  in  this  and  was  singed  and  choked 
and  utterly  exhausted,  when  the  great  hissing, 
snapping  prairie-fire  enveloped  the  spot  he  had 
burned  over. 

u  The  top  of  the  fire  went  by  him  like  a 
race  horse.  The  under  part  was  slower,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  it  would  never  leave  him.  Then 
he  had  a  paroxysm  of  sobbing  and  screaming. 
He  had  no  shame  in  it  —  perhaps  because  there 
was  no  one  to  see ;  and  besides,  he  was  only  a 
112 


THE    PRAIRIE    BOY 

very  ordinary  little  boy,  not  very  bright  and 
not  very  courageous.  His  father  was  probably 
burned  up,  and  he  had  nothing  but  gizzards  to 
eat.  He  was  miserable  and  lonesome. 
"  However,  it  finally  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  work  to  do.  It  was  dark,  and  on  the  chance 
that  his  father  had  escaped  the  fire  he  must  be 
signalled  into  camp.  He  naturally  thought  of 
firing  his  gun,  which  he  did,  and  then  he 
thought  that  a  beacon  light  would  be  better,  but 
there  was  now  no  grass  in  the  region  and  he  was 
slow  in  remembering  the  grass  bedding  inside 
the  tent.  He  was  dazed  and  sluggish  in  his 
mind,  but  at  last  he  got  an  armful  of  the  bed- 
ding and  twisted  wisps  of  it,  which  he  lighted 
and  flared,  at  what  he  tried  to  make  regular  in- 
tervals. Finally,  it  seemed  like  many  hours, 
he  got  a  signal,  two  shots  from  his  father's  gun, 
and  not  very  long  after  he  heard  his  father's 
voice. 

"  What  occurred  just  after  this  the  boy  does  not 
know.    His  reason  gave  way  under  the  strain, 
8  113 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
for,  as  I  said,  he  was  not  an  unusually  bright 
little  boy." 

Without  a  sound  John  left  the  fire  and  stood 
for  a  long  time  by  the  tinkling  brook.  When 
he  came  back  into  the  light  his  voice  was  un- 
steady. He  said  :  "  Poor  little  cuss.  I  guess 
I  know  how  you  felt." 


114 


COLONEL   WARREN 

FOR  twenty  years  Colonel  Robert  War- 
ren had  not  missed  his  spring  fishing- 
trip  to  the  woods  in  May,  and  John 
had  never  failed  to  meet  him  during  this  out- 
ing, as  his  guide,  mentor,  and  friend.  To  John 
it  had  grown  to  be  the  most  important  event 
of  the  year,  and  in  all  his  tramps  during  the 
early  spring  he  kept  a  watchful  eye  for  likely 
water  for  the  Colonel's  fishing  and  for  beauti- 
ful spots  to  gladden  the  Colonel's  artistic  eye. 
To  the  Colonel  it  was  even  more  important, 
and  his  planning  and  preparation  began  long 
beforehand. 

Mrs.  Warren  had  become  accustomed  to  note 
the  first  symptoms  of  restlessness  in  February 
or  March,  when  her  Robert  brought  from  his 
closet  and  hung  in  his  study  a  small  canvas 
side-bag,  which  contained  his  fly-book,  leader 

"5 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
box,  reel,  compass,  file,  pincers,  cork-screw, 
can-opener,  buckskin  thongs,  tar  oil,  adhesive 
plaster,  bandage  roll,  safety  pins,  drinking-cup, 
and  other  things.  This  "ditty  bag"  had  ac- 
quired, during  its  years  of  service  in  camp,  an 
odor  of  balsam,  with  a  blend  of  smoke,  tar  oil, 
fish,  and  a  powerful  reminder  of  fried  bacon. 
The  Colonel  loved  it,  and  Mrs.  Warren  always 
knew  when  it  was  hung  in  the  study.  The 
sight  of  it  or  the  smell  of  it  was  usually  a  suffi- 
cient diversion  for  a  few  weeks,  until  at  odd 
times  during  an  evening  he  would  overhaul  the 
flies,  and  one  at  a  time,  hesitatingly,  regretfully, 
throw  in  the  fire  those  that  were  frazzled  or 
unreliable.  This  was  a  slow  process  and  often 
a  painful  one,  for  each  old  lure  was  a  reminis- 
cence. 

It  was  hard  to  part  with  a  Montreal,  a  Split 
Ibis,  a  Reuben  Wood,  a  Black  Hackle,  or  a 
Lord  Baltimore,that  had  served  him  well;  while 
the  Grizzly  King,  that  had  held  for  five  min- 
utes and  then  lost  the  biggest  trout  he  ever  saw, 
116 


COLONEL  WARREN 
ought  to  be  kept,  as  a  hair  shirt,  to  remind  him 
of  his  utter  worthlessness.  He  loved  these 
pangs,  but  he  was  too  good  a  fisherman  to  al- 
low his  fly-book  to  hold  anything  unsound,  so 
the  fire  burned  up  all  the  old  leaders  and  flies. 
There  had  been  a  time  in  his  life  when  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  make  presents  of  old  flies 
and  old  leaders  to  young  fishermen,  and  to  ac- 
company the  gifts  with  stories  of  their  tried 
value.  He  did  not  do  this  any  more,  because 
as  he  grew  older  he  learned  to  love  young 
fishermen. 

He  made  a  list  of  all  that  was  needed,  and  cor- 
rected it,  added  to  it  and  cut  out  from  it,  un- 
til it  grew  to  be  a  complete  accompaniment  to 
the  rod  for  the  spring  campaign.  He  cared  for 
his  own  rod,  and  the  work  of  making  its  numer- 
ous slight  repairs  was  distributed  over  many 
days.  After  an  evening  of  work  or  reading  he 
liked  to  turn  to  it  and  fuss  over  it  for  a  few 
minutes. 

This  season  his  engagements  had  detained  him, 

117 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

and,ashistripwas  postponed  from  week  toweek, 
John  grew  anxious  and  the  Colonel  fretted  un- 
til early  in  July  he  appeared  at  the  hatchery.  He 
hugged  Hardy  and  patted  John.  He  shouted, 
sang,and  quoted  poetry,  mean  while  noting  with 
his  keen,  experienced  eye  every  change  in  and 
about  the  hatchery,  the  brook,and  thesurround- 
ing  trees.  He  shouted  : 

"  I  have  brought  you  six  feet  and  four  inches 
and  two  hundred  and  forty  pounds  of  bad  health 
and  low  spirits,  John  !  " 

"  I  'd  never  'a'  knowed  it,  Colonel,  but  we'll 
make  it  two  hundred  and  ten  pounds  and  high 
spirits  in  about  a  week.  We  've  got  plenty  of 
black  flies  to  bleed  you,  and  you've  got  me  to 
tramp  with ;  that  makes  two  reducers ;  and 
you  '11  drink  a  little  tamarack  tea  every  night 
and  mornin' ;  that  '11  cure  your  dyspepsia  and 
give  you  an  appetite." 

"  That  is  good,  John.     It  is  what  I  came  here 
for,  but  I  have  an  idea  that  you  can  condense  the 
medical  treatment  into  one  sweet  moment  of 
118 


COLONEL    WARREN 

medicinal  bliss  if  you  will  scrape  a  little  of  the 
tender  bark  of  the  mountain  ash  and  make 
an  extract  with  two  ounces  of  whiskey.  Two 
ounces  of  spring  water  and  a  lump  of  sugar 
mixed  with  this  in  a  tin  cup  and  handed  to  me 
will  blind  me  to  your  few  faults,  and,  — 

11  *  I  '11  take  no  care,  though  the  weather  prove  fair, 

And  reck  not  e'en  though  it  rain. 
We'll  banish  all  sorrow,  and  wait  for  the  morrow, 
And  angle,  and  angle  again.'  ' 

The  Colonel  roared  through  the  fishing  song 
with  a  deep  and  not  unmusical  voice  thatseemed 
to  shake  the  walls.  He  had  pride  in  his  voice's 
volume,  although  he  was  accustomed  to  call  it 
untrained. 

"  I  'm  a-thinkin',  Colonel,"  said  John,  in  the 
evening,  "  that  you  '11  want  to  start  for  the 
Wilderness  camp  to-morrow  mornin'  ?  " 
"  Not  until  after  breakfast.  We  will  wait  here 
just  long  enough  for  that,  but  have  it  early. 
George  will  go  along  and  take  care  of  me,  while 
you  give  Mr.  Hardy  a  good  time ;  so  you  will 

119 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

need  to  lay  out  four  days'  provisions  for  four 
men.  Are  you  equal  to  doing  that,  John,  with- 
out waste  and  without  running  short  ?  I  know 
you  are ;  you  never  failed,  but  I  should  like  to 
know  how  you  guess  so  closely." 
"  There  's  only  one  thing  I  have  to  guess  about, 
and  that 's  how  many  fish  '11  come  into  the  fry- 
in' -pan.  The  rest  is  easy.  When  we  have 
cakes  for  breakfast,one  pound  of  flour  is  enough 
for  four  or  five  men,  or  about  half  as  many 
boys,  and  a  half  a  pint  of  ground  coffee  will 
satisfy  'em.  Besides  that,  I  generally  allow 
for  each  man  two  ounces  of  maple  syrup ;  an 
ounce  of  white  sugar ;  a  quarter  of  a  pound 
of  bacon  ;  a  third  of  a  pound-and-a-quarter 
loaf  of  bread  ;  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  butter; 
a  quarter  of  a  can  of  milk  ;  two  potatoes  and 
a  tablespoonful  of  tea  a  day.  Pepper,  salt, 
and  baking  powder  don't  weigh  much,  so  we 
take  enough." 

"  That  makes  it  very  simple,"   said   Colonel 
Warren,  "but  you  do  not  take  into  consider- 
120 


COLONEL  WARREN 
ation  the  abnormal  capacity  of  a  man  who  has 
been  waiting  for  this  for  nearly  a  year." 
"  Yes,  I  've  heard  a  good  deal  about  the '  woods 
appetite  '  and  have  seen  city  men  start  in  with 
one  that  ought  to  make  their  hair  curl.  Some- 
times we  need  a  pound  and  a  half  or  two  pounds 
of  flour,  first  mornin'  out,  but  everything  gits 
down  to  an  everidge  in  a  few  days.  That  me- 
chanical engineer  who  was  here  with  you  two 
years  ago  'lowed  that  he  begun  by  pushin'  his 
furnace  beyond  his  boiler  capacity." 
"  I  had  heard  much  before  I  came  here,"  said 
Hardy,  "  about  the  effect  of  this  out-door  life 
on  the  appetite.  I  was  told  that  a  man  could 
eat  anything,  and  in  large  quantity,  and  enjoy 
it.  I  have  eaten  John's  provisions,  of  his  cook- 
ing; other  people's  provisions,  of  their  cook- 
ing ;  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  some  of  my  own 
cooking  ;  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the 
woods  appetite  is  not  a  coarse  desire.  It  is 
rather  a  sharpened  sense  of  what  the  body  needs. 
If  a  man  knows  what  good  food  and  good  cook- 

121 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

ing  are,  he  longs  for  them  when  he  is  healthily 
hungry." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  Colonel  Warren,  "  I  am 
proud  of  your  rapid  progress  in  woodcraft.  It 
took  me  years  to  learn  that  the  best  there  is 
is  none  too  good  for  me.  It  is  the  first  one  of 
the  thirty-nine  articles,  and  the  second  one  is, 
go  to  bed  early. 

««  « A  bower  quiet  for  us,  and  a  sleep 

Full  of  sweet  dreams  and  health,  and  quiet  breathing. 

Therefore,  on  every  morrow  are  we  wreathing 

A  flowery  band  to  bind  us  to  the  earth, 

Spite  of  despondences  of  the  inhuman  dearth 

Of  noble  natures,  of  the  gloomy  days, 

Of  all  the  unhealthy  and  o'erdarken'd  days 

Made  for  our  searching.'  ' 

The  Colonel  recited  perfectly,  without  the  fault 
of  over  expression,  and,  as  Hardy  lay  awake  for 
a  time  that  evening,  perhaps  because  of  the  ex- 
citement of  meeting  his  oldest  and  best  friend, 
he  thought  lightly  of  his  own  "  o'erdarken'd 
days  "  that  were  past.  His  room  at  the  hatch- 
ery overhung  the  brook,  where  the  current  was 
122 


COLONEL    WARREN 
partly   choked  by  boulders,  where  the  water 
always  sang  him  to  sleep,  and  to-night  it  sang 
hopefully. 

The  train  which  started  on  the  trairnext  morn- 
ing was  impressive.  First,a  portly  formcarrying 
a  pack-basket  neatly  covered  with  water-proof 
canvas,  and  a  cover  buckled  down  tight.  No 
camping  partner  ever  became  so  intimate  with 
the  Colonel  as  to  dare  explore  the  mysteries  of 
his  pack.  Hardy  followed  him,  easily  carry- 
ing his  heavy  load,  while  John  and  George  fol- 
lowed with  the  boats,  which  looked  like  huge, 
shining  water-beetles. 

It  was  a  long  trail  to  Wilderness  camp,  but,  as 
the  Colonel  expressed  it,  u  The  centre  of  iso- 
lation is  worth  working  for."  It  was  a  u  closed 
camp  ;  "  externally  simply  a  log-house,  but  its 
interior  fittings  and  furnishings  had  been  to 
John  and  to  Colonel  Warren  a  continual  study 
for  many  years, until  it  was  an  ideal  headquarters 
from  which  to  make  one  and  two  day  trips  in 
regions  not  desecrated  by  tourists.  Hardy  was 

123 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

learning  to  use  his  eyes,  and  while  he  observed 
the  mice-proof  closets,  the  bough  beds  on  poles 
raised  above  the  floor,  and  the  generous  expanse 
of  shelves  for  a  sportsman's  belongings,  he  also 
noted  the  peculiarities  of  construction. 
u  You  used  split  balsam  poles  for  shingle  lath," 
said  he.  "  I  did  not  know  that  that  lumber  had 
any  use." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Colonel  Warren, "  you  see  it  is 
still  sound  there,  where  it  has  done  its  work  for 
twelve  years.  Outside  of  the  woods  its  use  as 
lumber  is  often  fraudulent.  The  mills  cut  it 
into  siding  and  'mix  it  in  '  with  spruce  siding, 
with  intent  to  deceive  the  house-builder,  and 
as  George  says,  it  stays  sound  just  a  little  longer 
than  it  takes  to  nail  it  on.  Like  hemlock,  it 
does  not  decay  when  it  is  protected  from  the 
weather,  but  it  is  not  strong  enough  to  be  used, 
as  is  hemlock,  for  house-frames.  Its  grain  is 
always  straight  and  it  splits  easily,  and  makes 
a  splendid  floor  when  you  can't  get  a  better  one. 
It  is  the  woodsman's  tree,  for  medicine,  bough- 
124 


COLONEL  WARREN 
beds,  benches,  table-tops,  floors,  and  generally 
useful.  I  am  inclinedxto  think,  too,  that  it  is 
a  part  of  the  scheme  of  Nature  that  balsam  fir 
has  not  had  much  commercial  value,  so  that 
lumbermen  have  left  it  here.  It  is  the  one  ever- 
green that  thrives  abundantlyon  low  flats, where 
its  shade  is  especially  needed  to  protect  the 
sponge.  l  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and 
wait.'  " 

In  his  youth  the  Colonel  had  had  strong  opin- 
ions about  those  who  were  content  to  cast  from 
a  boat  rowed  by  a  guide.  He  preferred,  as  he 
still  preferred,  to  walk  alone  in  the  stream,  look- 
ing for  beautiful  pictures,  as  well  as  for  deep 
pools  where  he  could  drop  his  fly  gently  as  a 
snowflake.  But  years  and  weight  had  changed 
his  habits,  and  George  was  not  at  all  surprised 
at  the  suggestion  that  they  should  row  up  the 
Stillwater  and  examine  the  mouths  of  some 
spring-brooks  where  the  trout  might  be  lying 
in  the  spring-holes,  while  John  should  walk 
down  stream  with  Hardy  and  see  what  devel- 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
oped  in  the  pools  below  the  rifts.  Spring-hole 
fishing  was  at  its  best,  and  no  one  knew,  bet- 
ter than  George  knew,  how  to  handle  a  boat  in 
swift  water,  or  when  wind  was  blowing,  so  that 
the  fisherman  could  first  cast  carefully  around 
the  edges  of  the  incoming  cold  water  and  pick 
ofF  the  outside  trout ;  and  whenever  one  was 
fastened,  move  the  boat  gently  away  so  that  the 
skilful  Colonel  could  play  and  capture  his  trout 
without  alarming  the  others. 
"It's  jest  like  robbin'  a  hen-roost,"  said  George, 
u  If  you  want*  em  all,  don't  take  the  inside  ones 
first." 

The  Colonel  was  soon  satisfied ;  supper  and 
breakfast  were  provided  for,  when  there  hap- 
pened the  sad  event  that  rarely  fails  to  come 
to  every  fisherman  every  fishing-day  —  he  lost 
the  biggest  one.  Most  of  us  have  watched 
the  biggest  trout  in  the  pool,  cooling  his  side 
by  a  submerged  rock  or  protected  by  a  root, 
holding  as  by  right  the  most  desirable  water, 
quietly  alert  and  lazily  dignified.  The  choicest 
126 


COLONEL  WARREN 
morsels  float  to  him,  and  when  he  marks  them 
for  his  own  the  other  trout  keep  away.  He 
may  be  a  quarter-pounder  or  a  three-pounder; 
he  is  lordly  and  pompous  simply  because  he 
is  relatively  big.  When  the  great  head  broke 
the  water  the  Colonel's  rod  snapped  back 
responsively. 

u  I  have  got  the  alderman,  George  !  I  knew 
he  was  there,  but  I  was  just  about  to  go  away 
because  we  have  enough." 
Possibly  some  fishermen  look  at  a  watch  when 
they  fasten,  for  the  reports  of  time  taken  for 
playing  a  trout  are  often  precise,  but  the  Colo- 
nel did  not  do  so,  and  he  might  have  had  five 
minutes  or  fifteen  minutes  of  pleasurable  anx- 
iety when  the  fish  showed  his  great  size  near 
the  boat.  A  good  guide  never  loses  his  en- 
thusiasm ! 

"  If  you  lose  that  one,  Colonel,  I  '11  hide  your 
pack-basket !  " 

"  There  is  only  one  chance  to  lose  him  now. 
He  is  on  the  dropper  and  there  are  two  flies 

127 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

trailing  below,  looking  for  a  log  or  a  root — and, 
holy  smoke  !  they  've  got  it  !  " 
A  few  violent  throbs,  and  the  fish  was  lost. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken  as  the  line  was  reeled 
in  and  George  rowed  home.      Colonel  War- 
ren was  accustomed  to  maintain  the  proposi- 
tion that  good  fishermen  do  not  swear. 
Two  men  who  know  how  to  do  it  make  quick 
work  of  the  preparations  for  comfort  for  a  night 
in  camp.    Long  experience  and  keen  observa- 
tion, coupled  with  a  naturally  strong  inclina- 
tion to  secure  results  with  the  least  possible 
labor,  enabled  George  to  get  a  generous  sup- 
ply of  firewood  by  the  time  Colonel  Warren 
had  freshened  the  bough-beds.     Among  the 
many  decayed  spruce  trees  in  the  woods  there 
are  always  some  with  limbs  saturated  with  rosin 
so  that  they  resist  decay.    George  never  failed 
to  find  near  camp  some  of  these  tough,  dry 
"horns,"  which  are  easily  gathered  and  serve 
for  kindling  and  quick  heat. 
The  nearest  hemlock  stub  always  caught  his 
128 


COLONEL    WARREN 

eye.  These  brittle  timber  trees,  with  massive 
evergreen  foliage,  are  often  caught  by  heavy 
winds  and  the  tops  are  twisted  off,  leaving  a 
"  stub  "  that  quickly  dies  and  its  thick  resinous 
bark  hangs  loosely  or  falls  off  in  great  slabs. 
It  produces  probably  a  more  intense  heat  than 
any  other  natural  fuel  found  in  the  woods.  For 
welding  iron  it  is  a  good  substitute  for  charcoal, 
and  for  jerking  venison  or  for  broiling  or  mak- 
ing toast  it  is  incomparable. 
Everything  was  tidy,  supper  was  ready  to  be 
cooked,  and  they  waited.  At  dark  they  lighted 
the  bonfire  and  still  waited  for  John  and  Hardy. 
Supper  time  is  an  uncertain  appointment  for  a 
hunter  or  a  fisherman,  and  it  was  long  after 
dark  when  John's  shining  face  appeared  in  the 
firelight.  He  was  in  a  glow  ;  his  story  could 
not  wait. 

"Colonel,  Mr.  Hardy  ain't  a  tenderfoot.  He's 
a  fisherman  after  your  own  heart.  You  ought 
to  see  him  jump  the  boulders  and  go  through 
swift  water.  When  he  gits  hold  of  a  fish, 
9  129 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
nothin'  stops  him.  We  've  got  somethin'  to 
show  you !  " 

u  That  is  all  right,  John.  He  got  my  heart 
a  good  while  ago  and  he  has  running  gear  some- 
thing like  a  katydid,  as  I  used  to  have,  but  he 
looks  as  if  he  should  have  been  web-footed. 
Better  get  him  into  dry  clothes." 
"Oh,  Colonel,  just  look  at  that,"  said  Hardy, 
drawing  from  his  basket  a  two-pound  trout. 
"  Is  n't  he  worth  living  for  ?  But  I  can't  live 
up  to  him  !  This  is  the  beginning  of  living  ! 
Everything  dates  from  to-day  !  " 
u  We  went  clean  down  to  the  Grindstone," 
said  John,  "and  Mr.  Hardy  was  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  river,  and  — " 
"  I  saw  a  rise,"  said  Hardy ;  "  in  a  hole  near 
the  farther  shore,  and  I  worried  through  a 
pretty  stiff  current  to  a  boulder  where  I  could 
reach  him." 

"  And  he  made  a  long  cast  and  dropped  the  fly 
like  a  feather,  and  the  big  fellow  took  it  and 
throwed  himself  slick  and  clean  out  of  water, 
130 


COLONEL    WARREN 

and  Mr.  Hardy  struck  him  so  hard  that  he 

throwed  himself  plumb  into  the  river." 

"  No,  I  only  slipped  off  the  boulder,  and  when 

I  got  straightened  up  — " 

u  About  two  rod  below,"  said  John. 

u  Yes,  that  is  where  I  lost  my  hat.    I  had  to 

follow  him,  for  he  just  tore  down  stream." 

"A  rollin'and  a  swimmin'and  a  tryin'  to  wade! 

I  was  runnin'  'long  the  bank,  and  every  time  Mr. 

Hardy's  head  went  under,  his  hand  went  up,  a- 

holdin'  the  rod,  but  I  could  hear  the  reel  sing,  so, 

of  course,  I  knowed  the  trout  was  all  right." 

"  Then  I  came  to  deep  water,"  said  Hardy. 

"Yes,  in  the  pool  below  the  Grindstone,  and 

he  swum  ashore,  a-holdin'  the  rod  up  clean  out 

of  water." 

"  When  I  got  ashore,  the  binding  ring  at  the 

butt  of  the  rod  slipped  down  and  the  reel  fell 

to  the  ground." 

"  And  I  picked  up  the  reel  and  put  it  in  my 

pocket,and,says  I,  Mr.  Hardy,  you  gimme  that 

rod,  and  you  watch  that  trout  ! " 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

"  And  I  saw  the  trout  leave  the  pool  and  run 
through  a  chink  between  two  boulders  that 
touched  each  other  above  water,  so  that  John 
could  not  follow  him." 

" '  And,'  says  I,  '  Mr.  Hardy,  I  '11  stay  right 
here  and  hold  him  while  you  go  below  and  gill 
him/  " 

"  Wise  guide  !  "  roared  Colonel  Warren. 
"  Pretty  dry  one,  so  far,"  said  George. 
"  It  was  deep  below  the  two  boulders,"  said 
Hardy ;   "  but  I  went  in  carefully  and   could 
see  him,  pretty  well  tired  out.     That  encour- 
aged me,  for  I  was  getting  tired  myself.     It 
was  so  deep  that,  when  I  stooped  down  to  reach 
him,  my  head  went  under  water." 
"  Soused  in  three  times  !  "  said   John,  "  be- 
fore he  come  up  with  both  hands  gripped  on 
the  trout.     '  Throw  him   ashore  ! '  I  yelled, 
and  —  " 

"  Now   stop,  John,"   said   Colonel   Warren. 
"  Your  generalship  has  been  perfect,  and  you 
are  dry.   A  sportsman  should  be  proud  to  serve 
132 


COLONEL    WARREN 

under  so  wise  and  canny  a  guide,  but  get  dry 
clothes  for  Mr.  Hardy  at  once  and  dose  him 
and  feed  him." 

Sitting  by  the  fire  after  supper,Colonel  Warren 
said  : 

"  I  suppose,  of  course,  my  boy,  you  lost  your 
biggest  trout  and  had  your  grief  before  you  had 
the  swimming  race  that  John  umpired  ?  " 
"  I  lost  a  big  one,  and  it  was  my  fault.  I  felt 
bitterly  ashamed  and  wanted  to  quit,  but  John 
said  —  " 

"  Says  I,  '  Mr.    Hardy,  you  stay  right  here. 
Every  fisherman  does  it  every  day.'  ' 
u  Yes,"  said  Colonel  Warren,  "  learn  to'  re- 
gard such  happenings  as  purely  educational. 
Let  no  sorrows  come  on  the  stream,  or,  rather, 
when  they  do  come,  brush  them  aside." 
"  Like  mosquitoes,"  said  George.    "  We  had 
rather  a  quiet  ride  back  from  the  spring-hole 
this  afternoon,  Colonel  ?  " 
"  Yes,  but  that  loss  was  not  a  severe  one,  al- 
though I  admit  there  was  a  time,  as  I   was 

'33 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

watching  those  trailing  flies,  when  I  would 
have  given  you  a  new  suit  of  clothes  to  have 
had  that  trout  transferred  from  the  dropper  to 
the  leader  fly." 

u  When  did  you  first  learn,"  said  Hardy,  "  to 
mourn  not  as  one  without  hope  when  the  tail 
fly  weakens  ?  " 

Colonel  Warren  studied  the  pictures  in  the  live 
coals  during  a  long  pause,  and  the  others  were 
content  to  wait.  They  knew  that,  in  time,  he 
would  speak,  and  it  occurred  to  Hardy  that  the 
panorama  of  years  of  fishing  was  shimmering 
through  the  firelight  before  the  Colonel's  eyes. 
"  I  think  it  was  twenty  years  ago,when  I  came 
here  for  the  summer,  for  my  health.  I  could 
not  find  trout,  and  it  gradually  became  some- 
what annoying  to  me  to  hear  cruel  repetitions 
of  tales  of  extraordinary  trout-fishing  in  days, 
weeks,  or  years  before  I  came.  One  lazy  July 
morning  I  was  sitting  on  the  beach  tying  new 
•  leaders,  and  George  was  there  watching  the 
process.  He  was  very  good  at  that  —  at 
134 


COLONEL    WARREN 

watching  a  process.  He  finally  said  :  c  They 
ketched  a  three-pound  speckled  in  Raven  Run 
spring-hole  last  year.'  Out  of  the  bitterness  of 
my  heart  I  tried  to  make  a  melancholy  joke 
about  the  Raven  and  Nevermore,  but  George 
said  : c  I  don't  believe  they  've  ketched  out  the 
biggest  ones/  This  was  at  last  something  other 
than  history.  It  pertained  to  the  present  and 
it  seemed  to  point  to  me. 
"  We  were  soon  on  the  trail,  George  with  the 
boat,  I  with  my  rod  and  ditty  bag,  and  my  little 
son  with  his  new  knife,  intent  on  whistle  tim- 
ber. We  boated  down  the  river  to  near  the 
spring-hole,where  I  got  out  and  waded.  I  found 
a  few  small  trout  around  the  edges,  but  did  not 
get  them  because  I  had  not  learned  to  strike 
promptly.  I  dropped  a  fly  on  the  centre  of 
the  deepest  water  and  the  largest  trout-head 
I  had  ever  seen  showed  itself  to  the  gills  and 
lazily  sank  back.  My  tardy  strike  was  suited 
to  his  size,  and  he  was  fastened. 
u  The  boat  was  out  of  sight  above  the  bend, 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

but  I  called  to  George  and  he  heard  and  started 
down.  I  thought  I  needed  help.  The  trout 
ran  wildly  up  and  down  the  stream.  I  did  not 
try  to  control  him,  for  I  was  afraid  of  break- 
ing  something.  I  just  wound  in  line  whenever 
he  turned  toward  me  and  let  him  pull  it  out 
when  he  passed  me.  He  passed  close  to  me 
several  times,  until  I  was  tempted ;  and  with 
one  wild  scoop  of  the  net  I  lifted  him  high  in 
the  air.  I  was  in  nearly  waist-deep  water, 
with  a  heavy  brass-rimmed  landing-net  in  one 
hand,  the  rod  in  the  other  hand,  a  pipe  in  my 
mouth,  and  both  banks  were  heavily  fringed 
with  alders. 

"  The  net  was  shallow,  and  the  trout  seemed 
to  stand  in  it  on  his  tail,  with  that  same  old  head 
as  I  had  at  first  seen  it, but  now  projecting  high 
above  the  brass  rim  of  the  landing-net,  and 
thrashing  from  one  side  to  the  other.  I  was 
anxious  and  helpless,  but  George  was  hurrying 
toward  me.  I  presume  that  I  unconsciously 
helped  the  trout  to  jump  out  of  the  net,  just 

136 


COLONEL    WARREN 

before  the  boat  reached  me,  by  straining  on  the 
short  line,  because  I  was  insanely  holding  the 
rod  high.  Indeed,  I  think  I  was  holding  every- 
thing high,  rod,  net,  pipe,  and  voice.  As  he 
jumped  out,  the  snood  broke  and  my  first  great 
trout  sailed  away  with  a  No.  8  Professor  fly 
in  his  mouth. 

"  I  have  lost  friends  and  money,  but  never  be- 
fore had  I  experienced  a  more  piercing  regret. 
I  went  ashore,  took  down  my  rod,  poured  the 
water  out  of  my  shoes  and  prepared  to  go  home. 
George  spoke  words  of  encouragement,  but  he 
had  laughed  when  the  trout  jumped  the  net, 
and  I  remembered  it.  Nevertheless,  when  my 
little  boy  put  his  arm  around  my  neck  and  said 
nothing,  I  jointed  up  and  waded  in  again.  In 
less  than  an  hour  I  had  that  same  trout  in  the 
boat,  with  two  Professor  flies  in  his  mouth,  the 
old  one  and  a  new  one. 

"  The  following  winter  I  was  telling  this  story 
to  some  friends  who  were  visiting  us.  The 
little  boy  was  present,  and  it  occurred  to  me 

137 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

to  point  a  moral  at  the  end,  for  the  benefit  of 

the  boy,  so  I  added  :  c  I  am  glad  to  say  that, 

although  it  was  as  bitter  a  disappointment  as 

I  ever  knew,  I  did  not  utter  a  single  profane 

word.' 

"  But  the  boy  said  :  '  Oh,  papa  !    I  never  heard 

a  man  swear  so  in  all  my  life  ! ' 3 

"  And,"  said  George,  "  I  've  quit  carryin'  an 

extry  fly,  with  the  snood  broke  off,  to  hook  in 

a  big  trout's  mouth  as  I  land  him." 


138 


GEORGE'S   MEMORY 

COLONEL  WARREN  had  proposed 
two  days  of  hard  work  away  from  the 
river  for  the  entire  party,  and  they 
were  discussing  it  at  breakfast  time. 
"Some  men,"  said  George,  "plan  for  six 
months  and  travel  three  hundred  miles  and 
tramp  under  a  load  all  day  to  find  fishin',  and 
if  they  happen  to  strike  it  just  right,  as  we  've 
done,  they  can't  git  away  from  it  too  quick. 
There  's  a  pretty  good  trout  up  the  Stillwater 
a-waitin'  for  you,  Colonel,  and  he  give  you  one 
chance.  Misfortunes  generally  come  single, 
as  the  man  said  when  he  buried  his  third 
wife." 

u  Perhaps  we  shall  get  him  some  time,"  said 
Colonel  Warren,  "and,  if  not,  I  hope  some- 
one else  may  have  the  pleasure  of  doing  so,  for 
we  have  plenty  of  other  things  to  do.  There 

139 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

are  fishermen  who  go  to  the  woods  filled  with  a 
desire  to  kill,  and  the  thirst  for  blood  grows  with 
every  fish  they  catch.  They  fish  while  day- 
light lasts,  and  in  the  night  as  long  as  trout  will 
bite.  The  worst  of  them  seem  to  lose  their 
self-respect,  or  what  to  them  stands  for  self- 
respect,  which  is  little  more  than  a  fear  of  their 
neighbors'  opinions.  They  c  cut  loose '  in 
language  and  habits.  They  are  liable  to  drink 
too  much  whiskey,  and  go  back  from  their  out- 
ing haggard  and  depressed  in  body  and  in  mind. 
They  have  caught  more  fish  than  they  can  eat, 
and  when  they  have  carried  them  home  and 
sent  them  around  to  the  neighbors, they  imagine 
that  they  are  generous,  that  they  have  been 
working  in  order  to  give  pleasure  to  their 
friends,  whereas  the  assassins  are  simply  get- 
ting rid  of  their  loot  and  tickling  their  own 
pride.  We  have  enough  fish  ;  let  us  go  up  on 
the  mountain." 

During  the  hunting  season,  George  and  the 
Colonel    had    discovered   a   mountain    pond. 
140 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
Doubtless  others,  and  possibly  many  others, 
had  discovered  it  before  them,  but  there  was 
now  no  indication  that  any  person  had  ever 
been  there.  To  make  an  investigation  of  such 
an  unsullied  spot  gave  the  Colonel  more  pleas- 
ure than  fine  fishing,  and  to  do  it  thoroughly 
and  comfortably  they  needed  a  camp,  and  he 
was  determined  to  build  a  model  one.  He  had 
never  seen  —  indeed,  no  one  has  ever  seen  — a 
perfect  open  camp.  They  are  faced  the  wrong 
way  for  the  prevailing  winds,  so  that  they  are 
smoky ;  or  they  are  too  high  in  front,  or  too 
low  behind;  or  the  roof  leaks;  or  they  are 
badly  located  for  wood,  or  for  water,  or  for 
sporting ;  or  they  are  too  small,  or  too  large  ; 
or  the  bed  is  not  raised  from  the  ground. 
Whatever  Colonel  Warren  wanted  to  do  be- 
came at  once  John's  chief  aim,  and  they  had 
many  times  talked  over  the  ways  of  making 
the  ideal  open  camp.  John  proposed  : 
"  We  '11  take  a  cross-cut  saw,  an  axe,  and  a 
few  nails  along,  and  build  two  open  camps, 

141 


THE    LOVERS   OF    THE   WOODS 

jest  alike,  facin'  each  other,  five  foot  apart,  and 
hev  the  cookin'  fire  and  the  evenin'  fire  be- 
tween the  two  camps.  That  '11  leave  jest 
enough  room  for  the  smoke  to  get  away,  and 
hev  the  fire  near  enough  to  keep  us  warm  on 
a  cold  night.  We  've  tried  most  every  other 
spacin'  and  this  is  right.  When  we've  got 
the  tools  it  won't  take  us  much  longer  to  build 
the  two  than  to  build  one,  and  then,  no  matter 
which  way  the  wind  blows,  we  've  got  com- 
fort. But  before  we  build  it,  we  '11  find  a  dry 
knoll  not  too  near  the  pond,  so  's  to  scare  deer 
away,  and  not  far  from  it,  so  's  to  be  tiresome. 
I  'd  lay  three  or  four  tier,  dependin'  on  the 
size,  of  eight-foot  logs,  around  three  sides  for 
each  camp,  and  then  slope  up  to  a  seven-foot 
front.  I  'd  make  a  tight  roof  if  I  had  to  peel 
every  spruce  in  sight,  and  then  make  a  raised 
floor,  fifteen  inches  from  the  ground,  out  of 
inch-and-a-half  spruce  poles,  so  it  will  be 
springy,  and  cover  it  with  hemlock  boughs. 
I  'd  have  the  floor  stop  about  a  foot  and  a  half 
142 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
from  the  front  of  each  camp,  so  's  to  leave  a 
comfortable  place  to  set  before  the  fire.  Then 
we  have  a  choice  of  sleepin'  in  either  camp, 
accordin'  to  the  wind,  and  have  plenty  of  room 
for  the  packs  and  kit." 

"  The  specifications  are  adopted,"  said  Colo- 
nel Warren.  u  We  will  take  boats  with  us 
and  get  the  camp  livable  to-day,  and  finish  it 
to-morrow.  We  will  take  some  spoons,  and 
troll  as  well  as  fly-cast  the  pond  this  evening, 
so  as  to  know  surely  whether  or  not  the  trout 
are  native  there.  To-morrow  we  will  sound 
it  and  examine  the  bottom,  and  study  the  weeds 
and  mosses  with  the  magnifying  glass  to  see 
if  there  is  enough  natural  food  to  justify  stock- 
ing it  with  trout,  in  case  there  are  none  there 
already." 

"  I  would  n't  like  to  swear  —  " 
"  I  don't  believe  you  !  "  George  interrupted. 
"  I  would  n't  like  to  swear,"  repeated  John, 
u  that  there  are  no  trout  there,  even  if  they  don't 
come  to  a  hook,  'specially  if  there  's  deep  water. 


THE   LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

Now,  I  '11  take  along  somethin'  to  test  it,  and 
then  we  '11  know." 

"  Johnny  's  got  a  gill  net,  sure,  hid  away  some- 
where 'round  here,"  said  George. 
"  Then  it  must  not  be  used  here,"  said  Colo- 
nel Warren.  "  It  must  go  back  with  us  to  the 
hatchery  where  it  belongs.  We  will  do  our 
fishing  in  a  legal  way,  or  not  at  all." 
"Now,  Colonel,  don't  get  excited  about  my  gill 
net.  I  won't  let  it  catch  a  fish  to  be  killed. 
The  game  law  is  just  as  much  to  me  as  most 
of  the  Ten  Commandments.  I  own  it  would 
look  bad  if  some  one  come  along  and  saw  us 
puttin'  it  out,  but  they  won't  come  along  here, 
and  there 's  lots  of  things  that  ain't  wicked  on- 
less  you  git  ketched.  The  net  is  made  of  fine 
thread,  inch  and  a  quarter  bar,  nearly  a  hun- 
dred feet  long,  and,  with  the  leads  and  floats, 
the  whole  thing  is  only  a  matter  of  about  thirty 
pounds.  If  we  fasten  one  end  at  the  shore,  in 
a  good  place,  and  pay  out  and  anchor  the  other 
end  in  deep  water,  some  of  the  trout,  if  there 
144 


GEORGE'S    MEMORY 

are  any,  will  be  the  right  size  to  getgilledin  the 
meshes,  and  then  we  '11  know  what 's  there." 
"  But  if  you  put  out  that  net  at  night,"  said 
Colonel  Warren,  "and  take  it  up  in  the  morn- 
ing, most  of  the  trout  that  are  gilled  will  be 
dead." 

u  Sure  they  would,"  said  John,  "  but  we  won't 
do  that.  We  '11  set  the  net  at  dark,  when  the 
trout  begin  to  move,  as  they  always  do  at  night, 
and  I  '11  take  along  a  lantern  so  we  can  go  out 
in  the  boat  and  lift  the  net  and  examine  it  every 
hour,  until  about  midnight,  when  we  '11  take  it 
up,  and  I  '11  guarantee  no  fish  will  be  killed, 
and  we  '11  know  what 's  there." 
"Very  well,"said  Colonel  Warren.  "It  seems 
to  be  in  the  interest  of  science,  and  we  observe 
the  spirit  of  the  law.  We  will  take  the  net 
along,  and  may  use  it  carefully." 
An  hour  later  they  were  laboring  up  the  steep 
mountain-side,  heavily  loaded  with  the  boats, 
blankets,  kit,  and  provisions.  As  they  rested, 
George  philosophized  : 

10  I45 


THE   LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

u  Goin'  up  always  makes  you  think  how  pleas- 
ant 'twill  be  comin'  down.  We  ain't  like  the 
old  woman  a-goin'  to  town  with  her  market- 
basket,  facin'  a  drivin'  snow-storm,  and  all  the 
while  pray  in'  to  the  Lord  to  hev  the  wind  change 
by  the  time  she  turned  to  come  back  home." 
The  plan  made  for  the  trip  was  fulfilled  with- 
out change.  It  is  probable  that  Colonel  War- 
ren was  rather  more  pleased  than  disappointed 
at  finding  no  trout  with  the  fly,  the  spoon,  or 
the  net,  although  the  water  was  deep  and  cold, 
and  at  one  end  there  was  a  great  shoal  with 
water  plants,  carrying,  as  his  glass  showed, 
plenty  of  minute  crustacea.  He  could  recog- 
nize the  one-eyed  water-flea  (Daphne  cyclops) 
and  shrimp  (Gammarus  pulex),  and  he  studied 
many  others  which  he  could  not  identify.  He 
mourned  over  his  ignorance,but  John  consoled 
him. 

u  What  more  do  you  want  to  know  ?     The 
fish'll  eat  'em.  You've  seen  'em  before  in  trout 
I  've  cut  open  for  you." 
146 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
Plainly,  it  was  the  accident  of  the  subsidence 
of  the  waters  long  ago  that  left  no  native  trout 
trapped  in  this  pond.  "  John,  you  may  carry 
up  here  from  the  river  this  summer  one  to  two 
hundred  trout.  Next  summer  we  will  test  it, 
and  if  they  are  growing  fast  we  will  bring  up 
a  lot  more,and  in  two  years  somebody  can  have 
sport."  This  was  work  that  the  Colonel  loved 
more  than  he  loved  fishing. 
It  happened  that  the  camp  was  located  by  a 
bunch  of  young  spruces,  and  that  the  whole 
structure,  roof,  walls,  and  poles,  was  built  of 
spruce,  and  this  was  naturally  a  topic  at  the 
evening  housewarming. 

"  Spruce  is  the  curse  of  the  woods,"  said  John, 
"  on  the  part  of  its  makin'  men  greedy.  They 
come  first  and  cut  for  lumber  all  the  big  spruce 
that's  sound  and  over  ten  or  twelve  inches 
thick  at  the  stump.  Then  after  a  few  years 
they  find  they've  forgotten  somethin'  and  they 
come  back  for  pulp  wood  to  make  paper,  and 
they  cut  what 's  left.  Then  the  dead  tops  dry 

147 


THE   LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

out  and  the  fire  comes  and  kills  the  hard  wood. 
The  lumbermen  are  just  like  bass.  Put  black 
bass  in  a  small  lake  and  in  a  few  years  they  '11 
eat  up  all  the  minnies  ;  in  a  few  more  they  '11 
eat  up  all  the  trout ;  and  in  a  few  years  more 
they  '11  eat  each  other  up,  and  you  have  the 
water  left ;  and  if  they  could  take  the  water 
along  with  'em  they'd  do  it.  I  reckon  that  bass 
and  lumbermen  and  hedgehogs  all  go  to  one 
place  when  they  die,  but  they  are  too  dinged 
slow  a-dyin'." 

u  Of  course  you  are  wrong,  John,"  said  Colo- 
nel Warren,  "but  you  always  come  out  right. 
The  wealth  in  these  woods  has  been  terribly 
wasted,  but  the  people  were  ignorant  and  did 
not  know  what  they  were  doing.  They  are 
usually  more  careful,  nowadays.  Does  it  oc- 
cur to  you  that  we,  too,  are  wasteful  ?  In  peel- 
ing the  bark  for  the  camp  we  have  just  built, 
we  have  killed  spruce  to  the  amount  of  four  or 
five  thousand  feet,  board  measure.  Spruce  has 
been  the  one  great  valuable  crop  to  be  har- 
148 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
vested.  It  has  taken  more  than  one  hundred 
years  to  produce  it,  that  is,  as  it  grew  here  nat- 
urally. A  twelve-inch  spruce  tree  is  at  least  a 
hundred  years  old.  A  great  many  of  them  die 
before  they  grow  to  be  two  hundred  years  old, 
so  you  see  that  if  a  crop  of  spruce  is  not  cut  it 
is  wasted.  If  they  would  take  the  big  trees  only, 
there  would  be  a  profitable  crop  to  cut  at  in- 
tervals of  about  fifteen  years.  Spruce  grows 
faster, nearly  twice  as  fast  sometimes,  when  the 
trees  have  been  skilfully  thinned  out,  or  when 
other  conditions  are  favorable.  This  makes  an 
estimate  of  growth  deceptive,  if  you  count,  in 
an  end  section,  the  rings  which  show  the  yearly 
growth  in  any  one  tree,  as  you  can  count  them 
on  the  end  of  one  of  the  ten-inch  logs  in  the 
walls  of  this  camp.  You  may  perhaps  find  that 
one  of  those  ten-inch  spruces  has  fifty  rings  and 
that  another  one  has  a  hundred  rings.  Mr. 
Giffbrd  Pinchot  found  good  reason  for  believ- 
ing that  generally  North-woods  spruce  thick- 
ens an  inch  in  eight  years.  Beech  and  maple 

149 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 

grow  more  slowly.  Professor  B.  E.  Fernow 
finds  many  that  increase  an  inch  in  ten  to  fif- 
teen years,  while  yellow  birch  grows  nearly 
twice  as  fast. 

"  Since  the  white  pine  has  gone,  red  spruce  is 
probably  the  most  generally  valuable  building 
material  left  in  the  country,  and  it  is  altogether 
the  best  pulp  wood.  On  most  of  the  acres  in 
the  Adirondacks  it  is  worth  many  times  more 
than  the  land,  the  hemlock,  and  the  broad-leaf 
trees  all  put  together ;  so,  of  course,  they  are 
going  to  take  out  all  the  larger  spruce.  The 
uses  of  civilization  demand  it,  but  if  the  cutting 
is  not  recklessly  done,  less  than  one-tenth  of  the 
shade  is  taken,  the  rest  of  the  trees  are  bene- 
fited, the  downed  tops  and  the  young  growth 
about  them  give  cover  and  food  for  deer,  and  the 
woods  are  lightened  and  made  more  beautiful 
for  the  sportsmen.  All  things  work  to  gether  for 
good,  unless  the  lumbermen  are  pretty  bad." 
"  The  Colonel 's  right,"  said  George.  "  You 
find  more  deer  now  in  the  slashin's  than  any- 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
where  else,  and  they  git  fat  and  git  more  to  live 
on  through  the  winter,  so  they  don't  winter  kill. 
I  remember  findin'  and  countin'thirty  dead  deer 
in  one  spring-fishin'  season,  but  now  I  don't 
find  nearly  as  many  as  I  used  to.  They  are  fat, 
and  John  lays  it  to  the  feed  they  git  in  lumbered 
country." 

u  I  wish  I  could  trust  your  memory,  George,"" 
said  Colonel  Warren. 

"  So  do  I,  Colonel.  I  kin  jest  barely  remem- 
ber somethin'  about  your  first  deer." 
"  I  believe  George  is  right,"  said  John.  c<  I  've 
traveled  over  these  woods  ever  since  the  War, 
all  times  of  the  year,  and  'specially  when  there 's 
snow-shoein'  and  in  the  early  spring.  I  always 
see  sick  deer  and  starvin*  deer  and  dead  ones. 
Of  course  the  deer  ain't  so  plenty  as  they  used 
to  be,  but  they  've  been  increasin'  late  years 
and  in  the  slashin's  they  are  fatter,  and  not  so 
many  of  'em  winter  kill." 
u  Did  you  see  the  Colonel  kill  his  first  deer, 
George  ?  "  said  Hardy. 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

"  Not  to  say  see,"  said  George.  cc  I  thought 
I  heard  a  few  dozen  of  the  shots,  but  the  Colo- 
nel says  my  memory  has  weakened,  so  of  course 
it  has." 

u  Then  you  may  tell  your  dream,  George,"  said 
Colonel  Warren. 

"  The  Colonel  was  a  dream  when  he  first  come. 
He  'd  been  in  the  War  while  I  'd  been  lumber- 
in'  in  Canada,  and  I  got  my  first  job  here  a- 
waitin'  on  him.  His  clothes  and  cap  was  all 
made  out  of  one  piece,  soft  and  smooth,  brown- 
yellow,  I  call  it  —  jest  the  color  of  a  rotten 
stump.  Everything  was  fitted  to  him  and 
must  have  cost  a  hundred  dollars.  He  had  a 
patent  on  rolling  the  tops  of  his  long  stockin's 
toward  the  inside,  'stead  of  havin'  an  outside 
roll,  so  when  the  lower  ends  of  his  knee- 
pants  was  buckled  over  the  roll,  the  stockin's 
stayed  up  without  garters.  He  was  pretty  ! 
and  I  used  to  look  at  him  and  then  step  out 
into  the  woods  and  laugh  all  alone  by  myself. 
He  had  a  patent  single-shot  rifle  and  carried 
152 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
his  catridges  loose  in  his  left-hand  pocket; 
said  he  could  shoot  ten  to  the  minute  and  hit 
at  four  hundred  yards.  I  ast  him  how  far  that 
was,  and  when  he  said  it  was  about  seventy 
rod,  I  had  to  step  out  in  the  woods  and  laugh 
to  myself. 

u  I  had  two  dogs  that  had  never  run  a  deer,  but, 
as  luck  had  it,  they  were  good.  I  had  luck, 
too,  in  settin'  the  Colonel  on  the  runway  at 
the  mouth  of  the  creek,  and  I  left  him  a  boat, 
so  he  could  ride  down  to  camp  when  he  got 
through  waitin'  and  missin'.  Then  I  took  the 
dogs,  on  the  chain,  up  the  mountain,  a-lookin' 
for  fresh  tracks.  In  an  hour  or  so  I  had  started 
both  dogs  and  was  pickin'  gum  when  I  heard 
him  open,  and  keep  on  raisin'  the  ante  about 
every  ten  seconds.  I  did  n't  begin  countin'  un- 
til he  had  fired  a  good  many  shots,  and,  any- 
way, my  memory  is  n't  good.  Then  it  was 
quiet  for  a  spell  and  I  went  on  pickin'  gum, 
until  his  battery  opened  again  and  there  was 
more  fast  shootin'. 

153 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
"  I  was  rested  and  it  seemed  about  time  to  work 
down  hill  and  git  a  chance  to  laugh.  I  hap- 
pened to  strike  the  river  half  a  mile  below  the 
mouth  of  the  creek  and  saw  the  boat  comin' 
toward  me.  When  it  come  near  I  changed  my 
mind  about  the  Colonel.  He  was  a  blooded 
sport.  The  little  twelve-foot  boat  was  piled 
with  hair  and  hoofs  and  horns  and  dogs.  The 
dogs  was  fightin'  to  set  on  the  biggest  deer,  and 
the  Colonel  was  kneelin'  behind,  a-paddlin'.  I 
would  n't  have  known  him,  for  he  'd  lost  his 
cap  and  was  smeared  with  blood  from  his  brown 
hair  to  his  russet  shoes.  It  did  n't  seem  right  for 
a  hundred-dollar  suit  to  be  treated  so,  but  the 
Colonel's  looks  was  really  improved.  I  did  n't 
laugh  at  him,  but  I  swung  my  old  hat  and  yelled, 
and  he  roared,  and  the  dogs  bayed  and  begun 
fightin'  agin  and  nearly  upset  the  boat.  After 
that  we  had  a  good  deal  of  camp  work  to  do 
and  the  Colonel  saved  his  story  for  the  even- 
in'.  He  kin 
member  it.  " 
'54 


GEORGE'S    MEMORY 

u  Your  memory  is  all  right,  George,  in  this  case, 
except  that  my  cap  was  not  lost ;  it  was  in  my 
pocket.  After  George  showed  me  my  watch 
point  I  looked  and  listened  for  hours,  or  min- 
utes, so  intensely  that  every  grasshopper  was  a 
deer  and  every  squirrel  was  a  drove  of  elephants. 
I  had  never  heard  so  manyunexplainable  sounds 
and  I  was  so  fearful  that  a  deer  might  pass  me 
unobserved,  and  make  me  a  laughing  stock, 
that  I  soon  had  a  thousand-volt  tension  in  my 
eyes  and  ears.  I  could  not  stand  it,  so  I  crawled 
to  the  high  bank  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek, 
where  there  is  a  gravelly  pool  below  the  rift,  and 
I  was  much  interested  in  watching  some  large 
red-bellied  trout.  They  were  slowly  sawing 
forward  and  back  and  sideways  over  the  gravel 
bottom.  I  could  see  them  nosing  the  larger 
stones  out  of  the  way  and  then,  with  their  tails, 
dusting  the  sediment  from  the  gravel,  leaving 
white  places.  Occasionally  they  would  quit 
work  and  fight  each  other.  I  did  not  then  know 
that  these  were  male  trout,  cleaning  the  spawn- 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

ing  beds,  putting  the  house  in  order  for  their 
wives,  who  would  come  later. 
u  While  I  was  watching  the  trout  a  tall  insect 
began  a  peculiar  operation  on  a  spruce  log  near 
my  head.  He  had  wings  about  the  size  of  the 
caddice  fly,  and  four  or  five  legs  about  half  an 
inch  long.  He  clinched  all  his  toes  on  the 
spruce  bark  and  sent  down  a  shaft,  like  a  cam- 
bric needle,  and  drilled  a  hole.  At  first  I  thought 
his  drill  was  revolving,  but  I  got  my  magnify- 
ing glass  on  him  and  saw  that  it  was  a  recipro- 
cal twist  —  a  screw  to  the  right,  nearly  one  turn, 
and  then  another  to  the  left.  He  drilled  three 
holes  for  me  while  I  held  a  watch  on  him.  Then 
I  carefully  cut  out  a  section  of  the  bark  and 
found  that  he  could  drill  a  hole  three-eighths  of 
an  inch  deep  in  three  minutes.  He  furnished 
a  pretty  exact  pattern  and  model  to  the  inven- 
tor of  the  steam  drill.  I  believe  he  was  one  of 
the  Trichoptera. 

"  I  was  dissecting  him  and  examining  him,  and 
had  forgotten  all  about  deer,  when  I  heard  a 

156 


GEORGE'S    MEMORY 

rustle  back  in  the  woods  and  saw  something  that 
looked  like  the  comet  of  '6 1 .  It  was  glinting 
through  the  trees  like  a  streak,  and  I  shot  at  it. 
There  was  more  streak  and  I  shot  at  it  again, 
and  kept  on  shooting,  I  don't  know  how  many 
times,  until  there  was  no  more  streak  and  no 
sound.  Between  shots  I  had  been  running  to 
get  nearer  the  deer  and  to  keep  out  of  the  black 
powder-smoke.  I  kept  on  running  until  I  came 
upon  a  two-pronged  buck  that  was  very  dead. 
I  tried  to  get  him  on  my  shoulders,  but  he  was 
too  heavy.  Then  I  noticed  that  a  good  deal  of 
his  weight  seemed  to  be  inside  of  him,  and  I  re- 
membered George's  speaking  of  having  '  skun 
out '  a  deer,  so  I  c  skun  him  out,'  but  it  was  a 
chore.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  to  take  off  my 
new  coat,  and,  being  inexperienced  and  very 
eager,  I  naturally  absorbed  a  good  deal  of  that 
deer.  Nevertheless  my  bungling  work  seemed 
to  reduce  his  weight  about  fifty  per  cent,  so 
that  I  shouldered  him  and  carried  him  to  the 
landing. 

157 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

"  I  had  just  got  him  in  my  boat  and  was  going 
to  wash  up,  when,  whish  !  another  buck  broke 
out  through  the  alders  and  came  racing  toward 
me.  I  don't  think  I  saw  my  sights  when  I 
fired  then,  for  he  was  almost  upon  me.  I  blazed 
away  generally,  and  the  buck  dropped  dead.  It 
was  my  day." 

"  I  have  been  trying,"  said  Hardy,  after  a  pause, 
u  for  good  photographs  of  deer,  and  I  have  been 
thinking  that  you  had  the  chance  of  a  lifetime, 
when  the  second  buck  was  coming  almost 
upon  you,  if  you  had  had  a  camera  instead  of 
a  rifle." 

"  No  reason  why  you  should  n't  hev  both," 
said  George.  "  Tie  a  little  camera  tight  and 
well  back  on  the  under  side  of  the  barrel,  with 
buckskin  thongs,  take  aim,  push  the  button, 
and  then  shoot." 

"  I  have  had  nearly  uniform  failures  so  far,"  said 
Hardy.  u  That  is,  I  have  not  succeeded  in 
getting  a  thoroughly  satisfactory  near-by  pic- 
ture out  of  more  than  a  dozen  fairly  good  op- 

158 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
portunities.  Strange  to  say,  I  have  come  nearer 
to  success  with  a  camera  mounted  on  its  tripod 
than  with  a  hand-camera.  I  set  up  and  level 
the  camera  at  the  edge  of  the  pond  ;  then  trim 
it  with  boughs,  and  sit  down  behind  it  waiting 
for  something  to  come  along.  I  thought,  at 
first,  that  this  would  be  dreary,  but  on  the  con- 
trary, it  is  exciting.  I  find  that  by  a  quiet  pond 
or  on  the  river  there  is  always  something  going 
on.  A  fox  came  in  opposite  me  and  worked 
for  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  along  the  beach, 
in  and  out  of  the  bushes  and  in  the  edge  of  the 
water.  He  was  too  far  away  for  photograph- 
ing, but  I  got  a  good  idea  of  the  way  he  passes 
his  time,  of  his  alertness  and  watchfulness.  I 
think  that  he  caught  one  frog ;  but  I  had  no 
field  glass  with  me. 

"  And  why  should  a  big  deer  be  afraid  of  a 
measly  little  fox  ?  A  few  minutes  after  the  fox 
had  gone,  a  deer  came  out  of  the  woods  and  I 
was  ready  to  take  his  portrait  as  soon  as  he 
showed  his  whole  body  at  the  edge  of  the  water. 

'59 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

He  was  nearly  out  when  he  had  a  spasm.  He 
made  three  leaps  back  toward  the  woods  and 
struck  a  stiff-legged  attitude,  with  his  head  and 
nose  as  high  as  he  could  raise  them.  He  whis- 
tled a  shrill  sneeze  that  seemed  to  rasp  his  pret- 
ty nostrils.  He  ran,  making  a  short  loop  back 
in  the  woods,  and  came  out  just  above.  He 
stamped  the  ground  with  his  right  forefoot  and 
whistled  again  and  again.  It  was  abject  terror, 
and  yet  he  had  seen  nothing  alarming,  for  the 
fox  was  long  gone;  but  I  suppose  the  smell  of 
the  track  was  associated  in  his  mind  with  some 
kind  of  danger.  When  he  finally  went  away, 
he  ran  with  no  caution.  He  broke  twigs  and 
crashed  through  tops  for  as  far  as  I  could  hear 
such  sounds. 

"  In  using  the  camera,  I  have  been  mightily 
interested  in  the  way  green  forest  leaves  drink 
sunlight.  Photographs  in  the  dense  woods  on 
the  brightest  days  need  one  to  two  seconds' 
exposure  with  a  full  opening  of  the  lens,  or  a 
proportionally  longer  time  forthe  smaller  open- 
160 


GEORGE'S  MEMORY 
ings.  This  is  many  times  longer  time  than  is 
needed  in  any  other  shade,  and  I  like  to  think 
it  is  an  example  of  the  correlation  of  forces;  that 
light  is  taken  by  the  leaves  and  perhaps  converted 
into  power  to  pump  the  sap,  or  perhaps  used  as 
a  chemical  agent  in  the  making  of  timber  and 
bark.  I  do  not  know  surely,  for  I  am  getting 
the  woodsman's  fondness  for  learning  things 
from  seeing,  and  not  from  books.  The  dreamy 
theory  rounds  out  well  when  you  consider  how 
easy  it  is  to  re-convert  the  timber  into  light  by 
burning  it." 

"You  can  git  tanned  with  biled  hemlock  bark," 
contributed  George. 

"  I  have  noticed,"  said  Hardy,  "  several  in- 
stances of  a  peculiar  habit,  if  it  is  a  habit.  A 
doe  comes  from  the  woods  without  hesitating 
or  looking  around  carefully,  until  she  is  in  plain 
sight  in  the  open.  Then  she  studies  the  whole 
lake,  looking  apparently  over  every  foot  of  the 
beach.  She  looks  directly  at  me  for  a  while, 
but  if  I  keep  perfectly  still  she  turns  to  some- 
ii  161 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

thing  else,  and  presently  studies  me  again,  until 
she  is  quite  satisfied  and  puts  down  her  head 
to  take  a  drink.  About  this  time,  or  shortly 
after,  the  buck  boldly  walks  in  and,  without 
any  hesitation,  drinks  and  feeds  on  the  tender 
plants.  Once,  while  the  doe  was  doing  her  five 
minutes  of  videtting,  I  saw  a  little  flash  of  light 
a  short  distance  back  in  the  woods  from  where 
the  doe  had  come.  By  watching  there  for  a 
while  I  made  out  the  buck's  tail.  He  was 
standing  in  safety,  lazily  flicking  at  flies  with 
his  tail,  apparently  waiting  for  his  mate  to  take 
all  the  risks  of  determining  whether  or  not  it 
was  a  safe  spot  for  eating  and  drinking,  and 
when  it  was  so  determined  he  stepped  out  with 
a  lordly,  confident,  protecting  air.  The  doe 
seemed  to  be  grateful  and  proud  of  his  coming. 
To  her  the  old  coward  was  a  hero." 
u  Neither  of  them  was  a  coward,"  said  Colonel 
Warren.  "  Both  were  timid  and  cautious,  as 
all  good  woodsmen  learn  to  be,  but  the  buck 
will  fight  well  when  he  must.  I  met  an  Indian 
162 


GEORGE'S    MEMORY 

boy  last  summer  selling  black-ash  and  grass 
baskets,  woven  with  a  good  deal  of  skill  and 
with  some  taste.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  made 
them. 

ucNo;  woman  make  'em.' 
"  c  Then,  who  gets  the  money,  you  or  the  wo- 
man ?  ' 
"  c  Old  man  ;  he  gits  it.'  " 


163 


A   CHAPTER   OF   ACCIDENTS 

HARDY  had  acquired  some  power  of 
observation.  As  he  traveled  alone, 
he  saw  so  much  that  he  thought  he 
saw  all  there  was  to  see,  and  was  uncon- 
sciously becoming  proud  of  his  dawning  sense. 
Sitting  in  the  stern  of  a  boat,  with  John  row- 
ing him,  he  had  a  feeling  of  elation  whenever 
he  was  able  to  say,  "  There  is  a  deer  !  "  But, 
as  often  occurred  when  John,  with  a  turn  of 
his  head  and  a  keen  glance  forward,  replied, 
"  There 's  two  of  'em,  both  does,"  he  was  mor- 
tified. He  was  tempted  to  lie  and  say,  "  Of 
course."  This  temptation  to  small  lying  was 
one  of  his  discoveries,  and  he  sometimes 
thought  that  his  character  was  not  yet  formed, 
his  moral  sense  only  partly  cultivated,  when  a 
distant  object  was  pointed  out  to  him  and  he 
hesitated  to  confess,  the  devil  prompting  him 
to  say,  "  Yes,  I  see  it." 
164 


A    CHAPTER    OF     ACCIDENTS 

He  was  muscular,  and  the  apparent  strength 
of  woodsmen  or  guides,  carrying  a  pack,  or 
under  a  sixty-pound  boat,  was  a  mystery  to  him 
until  he  learned  that  skill  was  more  important 
than  muscle.  He  was  pleased  at  finding  that 
his  careful  bringing  up  and  thorough  physical 
training  counted  for  something,  and  that,  as  he 
learned  the  woods,  he  could  do  and  endure  more 
than  men  who  had  not  been  so  well  cared  for  — 
if  it  were  not  for  the  accidents.  At  first  he 
was  rarely  without  a  cut,  a  bruise,  or  a  strain, 
and  these  were  still  too  frequent.  John  ad- 
vised him  to  learn  how  to  be  careful  by  watch- 
ing the  habits  of  the  wild  animals.  "  They 
know  these  woods  better  than  we  do,"  said  he. 
George  warned  him  as  they  were  going  over 
some  rocky  ledges  :  "  Step  careful ;  these  rocks 
were  throwed  in  careless.  Nobody  took  no 
pains  with  'em." 

Eternal  caution  was  not  a  bore  to  him ;  it  was 
an  exercise  of  skill,  and  distinctly  a  pleasure, 
but  he  was  hampered  by  a  lack  of  knowledge. 
•  165 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

The  woodsman  knows  the  root,  or  rock,  or  log 
.  that  is  slippery  ;  one  look  is  enough.  It  is  not 
instinct,  it  is  knowledge  that  tells  him  where  a 
charred  log  with  sharply  pointed  branches  is 
hidden  in  the  briers  in  burnt  ground,  and  his 
marvellous  way. of  choosing  the  best  going  in 
rough  country  is  simply  the  result  of  a  great 
fund  of  information  about  little  things,  acquired 
by  experience  and  not  capable  of  being  taught 
by  words.  The  good  woodsman  of  course 
goes  slowly  up  hill  and  down  hill,  and  fast  where 
the  going  is  easy,  and  watches  for  head  room 
for  his  pack  or  his  boat,  as  well  as  for  good 
footing,  but  this  care  and  watchfulness  require 
only  a  small  part  of  his  attention,  because  he 
has  acquired  the  habit  of  seeing  at  one  glance 
and  of  printing  everything  notable  on  his 
memory. 

When  the  party  started  down  the  mountain 
from  the  double  camp,  the  packs  were  light- 
ened and  Hardy  offered  to  carry  a  boat,  but 
George  was  positive  that  he  needed  his  boat 
166 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS 
over  his  head  to  protect  his  complexion,  espe- 
cially when  going  down  hill.  John  was  also  re- 
luctant, but  yielded  to  Hardy's  courtesy  with 
a  warning :  "  Remember  you  're  in  a  trap  when 
your  head  is  under  a  boat  with  a  wood  collar 
close  'round  your  neck."  He  always  tried  to 
heed  these  warnings  and  he  knew  the  dangers ; 
but  on  a  strong,  erect  man  the  weight  of  a 
boat  rests  lightly  when  the  yoke  fits  the  shoul- 
ders. Going  down  the  slopes,  ahead  of  the 
rest,  he  had  occasional  warnings  when  the  boat 
was  not  perfectly  balanced  and  he  felt  its  stern 
touch  the  ground  behind  him,  but  it  is  hard  to 
be  always  careful,  and  he  yielded  to  the  temp- 
tation to  go  faster,  until  finally  the  stern  caught 
and  held  him  for  a  moment  as  he  was  stepping 
over  a  log.  He  took  a  few  quick,  unthinking 
steps  forward  to  recover  his  balance  and  heard 
a  miserable  sound  of  breaking  as  he  saw  a 
spruce  horn  pierce  the  shell  of  the  boat  in  front 
of  his  head. 
The  grief  of  a  child  is  probably  more  poignant 


THE   LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

than  that  of  a  man,  and  a  young  soldier  wastes 
more  time  than  an  old  one  in  vain  regret. 
Hardy  put  down  his  boat,  and  looked  at  the 
rent  in  the  beautiful  hull.  He  wanted  to  hurt 
himself.  He  pressed  back  into  their  places  the 
thin  fibres  of  white  pine  and  longed  for  the 
conditions  of  two  minutes  ago,  just  like  a  child. 
He  heard  George  coming,  heard  him  put  down 
his  boat  and  stop  near  him  without  speaking. 
George  was  filling  his  pipe  and  admiring  him- 
self for  having  clung  to  his  own  boat.  Colo- 
nel Warren  came  up  and  sat  on  a  log  while 
John  made  a  careful  examination  of  the  rent, 
and  finally  broke  the  silence : 
"  Might  hev  been  worse." 
"  How  could  it  have  been  worse  ?  " 
"  No  rib  broken ;  only  the  shell,  but  that 's 
bad  enough.  I  don't  see  how  we  can  fix  it  in 
the  woods." 

There  was  a  shrill  note  in  Hardy's  voice  as  he 
asked  :  "  Why  don't  some  one  ask  how  I  did 
this  fool  thing  ?  " 
1 68 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS 

"No  need  of  that,"  said  George.  "I  knowed 
you  had  n't  stopped  for  a  rest  soon  as  I  saw  that 
little  flick  of  paint  on  the  spruce  horn." 
u  Sit  down  and  fill  your  pipe,  my  boy,"  said 
Colonel  Warren,  "  while  John  finds  a  way.  I 
never  gave  up  to  a  broken  reel  or  fly-rod  or 
anything  else  lost,  missing,  or  busted,  except  a 
carry-boat.  I  suppose,  John,  it  would  not  be 
really  sportsmanlike  to  wad  some  underclothes 
in  that  hole  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  John,  thoughtfully,  "  sure  there  's 
a  better  way." 

As  they  neared  Wilderness  camp,  John  quietly 
asked  Colonel  Warren  : 
"  It  might  n't  be  that  you  have  adhesive  plas- 
ter in  your  pack  ?  " 

u  Always,  and  rubber  cement ;  and  there  ought 
to  be  a  rubber  boot-top  under  the  eaves  of  the 
camp.  We  are  thinking  the  same  way,  John." 
"  How  easy  !  " 

All  the  splinters  were  carefully  pressed  into 
place,  or  pared  down,  and  the  varnish  was 

,69 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

scraped  and  roughened,  inside  and  outside, 
around  the  jagged  hole.  Two  rubber  patches 
were  secured  from  the  leg  of  an  old  wading-  ' 
boot,  and  the  cloth  lining  was  peeled  from  the 
inside.  A  coating  of  rubber  cement  was  put 
on  the  boat  and  on  the  patches,  and  allowed  to 
dry  for  an  hour.  After  a  fresh  coating  with 
cement  the  patches  were  pressed  on.  The 
repair  was  firm,  smooth,  and  water-tight,  and 
lasted  through  the  season,  until  the  boat  was 
taken  in  the  fall  to  the  shop,  where  the  builder 
dove-tailed  in  new  strips. 
There  is  often  a  first  vulgar  impulse  to  laugh 
at  an  accident  to  another  person,  and  woods- 
men, who  spend  much  of  their  time  in  soli- 
tude, are  probably  most  prone  to  it.  Among 
kindly  people  it  is  quickly  followed  by  anxiety 
to  lessen  the  mortification  of  the  one  who  has 
had  the  misfortune.  In  the  evening,  by  the 
camp  fire,  three  men,  each  in  his  own  way, 
were  doing  what  they  could  do  to  lighten  Har- 
dy's spirits.  George  made  an  effort : 
170 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS 

"  Billy  Drew  come  out  of  the  woods  in  the 
spring,  years  ago,  with  a  back  load  of  furs,  and 
they  made  him  rich.  He  must  have  got  more  'n 
a  hundred  dollars  for  'em.  Then  he  went  back 
and  brought  in  a  load  of  tanned  buckskin,  and 
his  wife  made  moccasins  and  gloves  and  sold 
'em.  He  did  n't  do  a  stroke  of  work  all 
summer,  and  I  sot  'round  with  him,  evenin's, 
whenever  I  could.  Toward  fall  he  told  me 
he  had  a  big  scheme,  and  he  'lowed  he  'd  sell 
his  trap-lines  and  winter-camp  to  the  right  man 
who'd  appreciate  'em.  Of  course  I  was  the 
right  man,  and  when  he  showed  me  the  place 
and  the  lines  I  was  pleased.  I  could  see  where 
marten  worked  along  the  hemlock  ridges,  and 
the  rock  ledges  where  I  knew  I  'd  get  fisher, 
and  there  was  plenty  of  mink  sign  in  the  wet 
places.  Thecamp  wasbuilt  just  right  for  winter. 
It  was  tight  and  hed  a  little  door  to  it,  and  was 
roomy  enough  for  two  men  to  crawl  in." 
"  What  did  you  do  with  all  that  extry  room, 
George  ? " 

171 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

"  Kep'  it  for  my  dog,  John,  and  he  was  good 
company.  He  never  interrupted  me,  all  win- 
ter, when  I  was  a-tellin'  him  stories. 
u  One  end  of  the  little  camp  was  against  a  big 
boulder,  and  that 's  where  the  chimney  was. 
The  fire  by  that  rock  through  the  evenin'  made 
it  hot  enough  to  keep  the  camp  warm  nearly 
all  night.  The  early  part  of  December  I  went 
in,  and  of  course  I  wanted  bait  for  my  traps, 
so  I  stepped  back  about  eighty  rod  from  the 
camp  and  felled  a  balsam.  I  left  it  quiet  for 
a  few  days  and  then  went  back  over  the  ridge 
with  my  rifle  to  see  what  had  happened.  The 
deer  was  standin'  so  clost  around  that  felled 
tree  that  I  could  n't  see  much  of  it.  Their 
sides  was  a  touchin'  each  other.  They  looked 
like  cattle 'round  a  haystack,  and  I  s'pose  there 
was  more  behind  'em  waitin'  for  a  chance,  but 
I  did  n't  bother  to  look.  They  went  away 
pretty  soon,  all  but  one  buck  that  stayed,  for 
bait  for  my  traps.  I  skun  out  the  deer  right 
there  and  had  to  make  two  trips  to  camp  to 
172 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS 
carry  him  in,  for  he  was  a  good  one,  and  the 
queerest  thing  was  that  I  forgot  all  about  my 
rifle  and  left  it  leanin'  agin  the  balsam  top. 
"  Next  mornin'  I  went  back  after  it  and  was 
steppin'  along,  quiet  like,  when  I  saw  fresh 
bear  sign,  and  the  biggest  track  I  ever  see.  It 
was  fresh  ;  it  was  dinged  fresh,  and  that  big 
bear  was  right  where  I  killed  the  buck,  and  he 
had  with  him,  right  under  his  eye,  the  only 
rifle  within  ten  miles.  I  set  down  to  think 
about  it,  and  was  goin'  to  fill  my  pipe  so  's  to 
get  an  idee,  but  I  did  n't  do  it,  'though  the 
wind  was  right.  I  crawled  along,  careful,  to 
see  what  was  goin'  on.  Pretty  soon  I  could 
hear  him,  workin'  on  what  was  left  of  the  deer. 
I  thought  he  would  eat  what  he  could  and  then 
drag  away  the  rest,  and  as  he  was  makin'  a 
good  deal  of  noise,  I  kep'  workin'  closter. 
When  I  saw  him  he  had  his  back  to  me,  and 
I  kep'  on  workin'  in.  Pretty  quick  he  saw 
me,  and,  instead  of  runnin'  away,  he  rared  up 
and  looked  at  me,  unpleasant. 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

"  I  'd  got  in  pretty  clost,  thinkin'  when  he 
started  to  run  I  'd  sprint  for  my  gun  and  every- 
thing would  be  pleasant,  but  his  settin'  up  and 
darin'  me  to  come  on,  and  gittin'  ready  to  come 
my  way  instead  of  goin'  his  'n,  made  it  bad.  He 
acted  as  if  he  knew  he  was  bigger  'n  me,  and 
I  could  n't  help  wonderin'  if  he  knew  about  the 
rifle.  We  looked  at  each  other  quite  a  spell ; 
he  a-keepin'  up  a  low  growl  and  me  a  figurin' 
on  a  birch  crotch  where  I  thought  perhaps  I 
could  swarm  up.  Pretty  soon  he  begun  eatin' 
again,  but  I  could  see  he  was  n't  swallerin'  any- 
thing. He  was  fakin',solfelt  better  and  turned 
on  my  eyes  fiercer,  but  kep'  still  and  did  n't  al- 
together give  up  the  idee  of  the  birch  crotch. 
Then  he  weakened  a  little  more  and  began 
backin'  away,  but  draggin'  with  him  some  of 
the  insides  of  the  deer.  When  he  was  out  of 
sight  in  the  bushes  I  reached  my  rifle  and  felt 
better.  When  I  got  a  chance  to  put  a  bullet 
in  his  shoulder  he  was  some  distance  ofFand  a- 
rackin'  along  through  the  woods  at  a  pretty 
174. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS 
good  gait.  He  went  somethin'  like  a  half  a 
mile  after  that;  I  a-follerin'  him,  and  nearly  out 
of  lead  by  the  time  he  was  quiet. 
u  He  was  the  biggest  bear  and  the  fattest  bear 
I  ever  see.  I  'd  heard  that  bear's-ile  was  worth 
ten  dollars  a  gallon,  and  of  course  the  skin  was 
a  beauty, and  so  of  course  my  fortune  was  made 
and  Billy  Drew  was  mighty  foolish  or  mighty 
kind  to  give  up  such  a  chance  and  let  me  into 
it.  I  worked  over  him  nearly  a  week,  for  he  'd 
made  it  a  long  carry,  back  and  forrads  to  the 
camp,  but  I  kep'  him  froze  up  and  all  safe. 
The  skin  was  so  heavy  with  fat  that  it  took  me 
half  a  day  to  work  it  into  camp.  I  filled  the 
little  camp  full  with  the  skin  and  the  fat,  that 
I  expected  to  get  enough  ile  out  of  to  make  me 
rich.  Then  about  New  Year's  I  snow-shoed 
out  home  with  seventy  pound  of  fat,  and  my 
wife  tried  it  out  and  filled  every  bottle  and  can 
in  the  house  with  bear's-ile,  and  that 's  all  I  ever 
got  out  of  that  bear. 
"The  January  thaw  come  on,and  it  was  nearly 


THE   LOVERS   OF   THE   WOODS 

a  month  before  I  could  work  back  through  the 
soft  snow  to  the  camp.  I  knowed  I  was  near 
it  before  I  could  see  it,  for  I  could  wind  it ; 
so  I  did  n't  come  any  nearder,  but  just  geth- 
ered  in  a  few  traps  and  went  home. 
"  In  the  spring  I  went  out  to  the  drug  stores 
and  they  all  told  me  bear's-ile  was  n't  worth 
anything  any  more,  because  ilin'  hair  had  gone 
out  of  fashion.  So  I  bought  a  lot  of  small  fancy 
bottles  and  put  ile  in  'em  and  had  red  and  gilt 
labels, '  Genuine  and  Guaranteed  Pure,'  put  on 
'em ;  and  went  'round  recommendin'  bear's- 
ile  for  rheumatism  and  consumption,  but  never 
sold  a  bottle.  I  recommended  it  for  ilin'  shoes, 
but  people  would  n't  take  to  it,  on  account  of 
the  smell." 

"  You  was  n't  so  much  to  blame,"  commented 
John,  "  except  on  the  part  of  leavin'  your  rifle 
out.  I  don't  see  how  you  could  'a'  done  that, 
way  off  in  the  woods  all  alone." 
"  'T  was  n't  that,"  said  George,  "  't  was  not 
knowin'  that  hair  ile  had  gone  out.  A  man 
176 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS 

has  to  know  a  mighty  sight  to  deal  with  people 
outside  and  make  anything  out  of  'em.  If  I 
had  n't  left  the  rifle  out  I  'd  never  seen  the 
bear." 

"  Of  course,"  said  John,  "  a  man  never  ought 
to  have  an  accident  in  these  woods ;  they  're 
no  use,but  they  come  quick  and  sometimes  you 
hardly  know  what 's  happened,  even  when  you 
think  you  're  careful.  There  used  to  be  an  old 
camp,  half  a  mile  from  here,  the  roof  broke 
down  with  the  weight  of  snow,  and  all  grown 
up  to  briers  and  pin-cherry.  The  Colonel 
did  n't  like  it,  called  it  a  '  blot  in  the  wilder- 
ness ; '  so  I  went  there,  when  snow  come  in 
November,  to  burn  it  when  it  was  safe.  It 
was  slow  burnin',  and  I  was  usin'  my  axe  to 
get  the  logs  together  so  they  'd  heat  each  other. 
I  was  alone  and  in  a  hurry  and  was  careless, 
and  swung  the  axe  into  a  pin-cherry  crotch  just 
behind  me.  It  hung  in  the  brittle  thing  just 
long  enough  to  drop  back  and  split  the  calf  of 
my  right  leg. 

12  177 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

"  I  always  claimed  that  pin-cherry  is  the  mean- 
est tree  in  the  woods.  It  starts  in,  in  a  wind- 
fall or  a  clearin',  and  chokes  out  young  birch 
and  maple.  It  grows  fast  at  first,  and  lays  out 
to  be  a  good  tree,  and  makes  everything  'round 
it  grow  spindlin'.  It  is  n't  good  for  much,  even 
for  firewood,  and  when  it 's  done  all  the  dam- 
age possible,  it  dies ;  but  it  stays  there,  black  and 
brittle  to  catch  an  axe.  It 's  just  like  a  bass." 
"Ora  lumberman, or  a  hedgehog,"  said  Hardy. 
"  No,  not  so  bad  as  that,  but  just  plain  bad. 
The  blood  come  strong  and  I  was  pretty  weak 
and  tired  by  the  time  I  got  the  arms  of  my 
shirt  tied  around  the  leg,  with  a  stick  through 
the  wrappin',  twisted  tight  enough  to  choke  the 
flow.  When  I  had  crawled  a  while,  I  had  to 
stop  and  tidy  up.  The  stick  was  a  little  too 
long,  and  it  and  the  shirt  trailin'  behind  my 
back  leg  rassled  with  the  witch  hopples,  and 
made  it  bad  goin'.  I  was  near  here  when  I  re- 
membered somethin'.  The  Colonel  has  a  way 
of  hidin'  out  what 's  left  of  a  bottle  of  whiskey, 

.78 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS 

and  I  had  noticed  him  looking  at  a  birch  stump 
a  few  rods  out.  I  got  there  and  dug  under  the 
root  and  found  a  bottle.  I  pulled  the  cork,  and 
things  looked  better." 

"  Only  four  or  five  ounces  left  in  that  bottle,  I 
think,"  said  Colonel  Warren.  u  That  is  my  ob- 
vious for  hiding,  in  order  to  satisfy  and  stop 
the  fool  hunter." 

"  An'  I  think  I  saw  you  takin'  notice  of  the 
big  hemlock  log  below  the  spring  ?  " 
"  Yes,  John,  there  is  a  better  bottle  there." 
"  And  the  turned-up  spruce  root,  on  the  other 
side  of  camp,  with  a  spike  that  shows  ten  foot 
high,  ought  to  be  a  good  landmark  ?  " 
"  You  have  taken  the  third  degree,  John." 
"  There 's  others,"  said  John. 
"  There  are  several  others,"  said  Colonel  War- 
ren. 

"  I  '11  put  an  axe  in  my  leg,  soon  as  this  party 
goes  out,"  said  George. 

"  The  minister  who  was  here  two  years  ago 
learned  of  my  childish  practice,"  said  Colonel 

179 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

Warren,  u  and  when  he  went  out  he  told  me 
in  mysterious  whispers  that  he  had  left  two 
flasks  hid  out,  and  that  I  was  welcome  to  them 
if  I  could  find  them.  He  quivered  and  looked 
about  cautiously  as  he  spoke  to  me  about  it. 
The  edge  of  hypothetical  iniquity  is,  to  some 
mild  persons,  like  a  precipice  that  they  feel 
drawn  to  peek  over.  It  did  not  take  long  to 
find  the  first  flask.  Of  course  he  would  not 
go  far  from  the  trail,  so  I  stood  still  and  imag- 
ined myself  to  be  a  minister.  I  got  quite  in 
the  spirit  of  it,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  done  so, 
walked  to  his  flask  without  error.  I  tasted  his 
liquor  and  never  looked  for  the  other  flask.  I 
am  convinced  that  he  is  a  temperate  gentle- 
man." 

"  Your  stump  bottle  was  good,"  said  John.  "It 
made  a  wonderful  difference,  right  away.  I 
crawled  into  camp  and  made  a  fire  and  biled  a 
couple  of  towels  for  about  an  hour.  Then  I 
cut  'em  in  strips  and  made  a  good  job  of  ban- 
dagin',and  slep'  right  through  the  afternoon  and 
180 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS 

night.     I  put  on  fresh  bandage  in  the  mornin' 
and  went  home  easy." 

"  The  best  work  you  did,"  said  Hardy,  "  was 
remembering  to  boil  out  the  towels." 
u  And  the  stump,"  said  George. 
"It  was  good  work  all  the  way  through,"  said 
Colonel  Warren,  "  sportsmanlike  and  good 
woodcraft.  There  is  always  a  way  outof  trouble 
in  the  woods,  but  some  of  us  are  foolish.  A 
good  many  years  ago  I  was  in  the  woods,  with 
George,  floating  for  deer.  The  lake  was  con- 
siderably more  than  a  mile  across,  and  toward 
morning  we  found  a  deer  in  the  marsh  at  the 
head  and  brought  him  in.  My  little  boy,  six 
years  old,  was  in  camp  and  he  wakened  as  we 
were  hanging  up  the  deer.  The  day  was  break- 
ing, the  lake  was  very  beautiful,  and  as  I  had  an 
errand  to  the  other  side,  I  took  the  boy  with  me 
in  the  carry-boat  and  rowed  across.  When  we 
started  to  come  back,  I  paid  out  a  trolling  line 
and  passed  the  rod  to  the  boy  in  the  stern.  Pres- 
ently a  good  fish  struck  the  troll  and  pulled  so 

181 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

hard  that  little  Russell's  strength  was  not  equal 
to  it,  and  he  partly  stood  up  to  pass  the  rod  to 
me.  I  also  partly  stood  up  to  reach  for  it.  I 
was  careless.  The  boat  tipped  and  nearly  filled 
and  then  righted.  A  forty-pound  carry-boat  is 
a  good  ship  when  it  is  dry  on  the  inside.  When 
it  is  full  of  water  it  will  float  only  a  few  pounds 
more  than  its  own  weight,  partly  because  of  its 
metal  trimmings. 

"  I  instantly  placed  each  hand  on  opposite  gun- 
wales of  the  boat,  and,  straightening  my  arms, 
raised  my  body  free  and  gently  balanced  out  in 
the  lake,and  clung  to  the  bow  stem.  Of  course, 
in  balancing  out,  I  completely  filled  the  boat 
with  water,  but  I  kept  it  right  side  up  and  hoped 
that,  swamped  as  it  was,  it  would  sustain  the 
boy  and  also  allow  me  to  bear  a  part  of  my  weight 
on  it  while  I  swam  and  pushed  it  along.  This 
did  not  work.  Russell's  e'nd  of  the  boat  sank 
until  the  water  rose  to  his  chin,  and  the  whole 
thing  was  unmanageable.  I  treaded  water  and 
tended  the  boat  while  I  was  soothing  and  en- 
182 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS 

couraging  the  plucky  little  boy  to  keep  steady 
and  work  forward  to  the  centre  and  sit  on  the 
bottom.  He  behaved  well  and  things  looked 
better,  for  the  boat  would  just  carry  him,  and 
not  a  pound  more.  My  hunting-clothes  and 
boots  were  heavy  and  the  water  was  cold,  but 
I  swam  and  pushed  as  carefully  as  I  could,  aim- 
ing for  the  point  of  the  island.  It  was  slow, 
terribly  slow.  I  saved  my  strength  in  every 
possible  way,  and  began  to  speculate  on  how 
long  I  could  work  in  the  cold  water  and  heavy 
clothes.  I  certainly  could  not  reach  the  island, 
but  I  kept  going,  and  while  encouraging  the  boy 
to  keep  still  and,  at  intervals,  to  scream  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  I  used  the  fewest  possible  words 
and  the  least  amount  of  breath. 
a  A  numbness  began  at  my  feet  and  crept  grad- 
ually up  my  legs  until  they  were  almost  useless. 
I  swam  now  mostly  with  my  arms,  and  at  every 
second  or  third  stroke  pushed  the  boat  carefully 
ahead  with  one  hand.  It  was  plain  that  I  could 
not  swim  to  the  island  and  that,  even  if  George 

183 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

heard  us,  he  could  not  reach  us  in  time  to  help 
me.  I  therefore  gave  Russell  final  precise  di- 
rections ;  trying  to  give  him  the  impression  that 
I  was  simply  going  away  after  help.  I  wanted 
to  say  good-by  to  him  and  give  a  message 
to  his  mother,  but  this  should  not  be  done. 
My  pains  were  so  intense  and  I  was  so  nearly 
helpless  that  it  needed  no  courage  to  let 
myself  slowly  sink.  It  came  as  a  blessed 
relief.  It  was  almost  a  disappointment,  after 
I  had  sunk,  to  find  that  my  feet  touched 
bottom. 

u  We  had  barely  reached  the  edge  of  the  shoal 
and  were  in  a  trifle  over  six  feet  of  water.  I 
thought  that  I  was  dying  and  the  hope  that  the 
footing  gave  was  only  a  languid  stimulus.  It 
was  the  thinking  of  the  dear  little  courageous 
boy  that  gave  me  enough  pluck  to  thrust  my 
head  again  above  the  surface.  A  few  more 
sinkings  and  a  few  more  thrusts  brought  me 
to  wading  ground. 
"  c  Are  you  on  bottom,  papa  ? ' 
184 


A    CHAPTER    OF    ACCIDENTS 

u  I  had  enough  strength  to  answer,  and  to  push 

the  boat  slowly  to  the  island.     I  lifted  the  boy 

out  and  said  : 

"  *  Russell,  say  "  Thank  God  !  "  ' 

«  '  Thank  God,  papa  !  '  " 


185 


JOHN'S   CAKES 

"  T  T  'S  jest  as  I  told  you,"  said  John,  as  he 
cheerfully  passed  to  the  out-door  break- 
fast table  the  twentieth  plate  of  cakes. 
"  Sometimes  your  appetite  is  above  the  everidge, 
but  if  settles  back.  I  thought  it  'd  be  so  from 
the  way  you  all  slep'  after  comin'  down  the 
mountain,  so  I  mixed  two  pounds  of  flour,  and 
it 's  a-goin',  but  there 's  plenty." 
"  The  cakes  of  John,"  said  Colonel  Warren, 
"  are  not  made  by  any  one  else  in  any  camp  or 
in  any  kitchen.  They  are  light ;  as  a  vehicle 
for  pure  maple  syrup  they  rival  the  sponge. 
They  are  resilient;  their  restful  light-brown  sur- 
faces seem  to  come  scarcely  in  contact.  Only 
two  more,  John,  and  I  am  done.  c  Wouldst  thou 
both  eat  thy  cake  and  have  it  ?  '  Yes,  when 
John  mixes  the  batter  there  is  always  enough. 
They  are  moist,  yet  not  too  moist,  and  always 
tender  and  good.  They  —  " 
1 86 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

"  —  stick  to  the  ribs,  I  'm  a-tellin'  you,"  inter- 
rupted George.  "  Your  fly-rod  '11  work  better 
on  the  few  dozen  cakes  you  've  pecked  at  than 
on  the  hardtack  you  had  in  the  war.  When  the 
Colonel's  leader  fouls  and  climbs  trees,  I  've 
learned  to  lay  it  to  the  feed." 
u  I  wish,  John,  that  some  time  you  would  show 
me  how  to  make  cakes,"  said  Hardy. 
"Sure  I  will  —  some  time,"  answered  John. 
Hardy  was  reminded  that  he  had  many  times 
asked  the  same  question  and  had  the  same  an- 
swer. To  Colonel  Warren  the  question  and 
answer  had  acquired  the  familiarity  of  years.  He 
knew  all  the  ingredients  ;  he  might  have  learned 
them  by  differentiation,  if  in  no  other  way,  for 
whenever,  in  the  vicissitudes  of  camp  life,  any 
were  missing,  John  mentioned  it  and  repeated 
it,  again  and  again,  in  the  way  of  apology. 
He  was  tender  of  the  reputation  of  his  cakes. 
George  wanted  to  know ;  he  needed  this  ac- 
complishment in  his  business.  He  rarely  asked 
questions ;  he  used  his  eyes  and  never  forgot 


THE   LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

what  he  had  seen  once.  Many  a  morning  he 
had  exhausted  his  pretexts  for  being  near  John 
during  the  mixing,  but  too  often  John's  back 
would  unaccountably  be  turned  to  him,  and  yet 
it  was  so  naturally  done  as  not  to  arouse  sus- 
picion, until,  as  George  once  described  it  to  his 
wife  when  he  had  again  failed  to  bring  home 
the  recipe  she  had  often  asked  for, — 
"  Says  I  to  myself,  I  '11  spot  the  dinged  thing 
if  I  hev  to  crawl  between  his  legs  when  he 
turns,  so  he  '11  swivel  over  me.  So  I  tended 
him  for  half  an  hour;  reachin'  'round  him  for  a 
cup,  lookin'  over  his  shoulder,  droppin'  on  the 
floor  for  a  knife,handin'  him  the  milk  can,which 
he  said  he  did  n't  need  jest  yet,  doin'  everything 
to  be  sociable  and  clost.  Twice  he  told  me 
to  go  to  the  spring  for  him,  but  I  was  ready  for 
that  and  hed  every  kittle  in  camp  filled  before- 
hand. He  was  worried  about  the  fire,  but  I  'd 
thought  of  that,  and  hed  all  kinds  of  dry  wood 
where  I  could  reach  it  and  drop  it  on  without 
movin'  from  my  tracks,  while  my  head  was 
1 88 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

turned  full  'round  over  my  shoulders,  a-watch- 
in'  him.  He  did  n't  seem  to  be  restless,  but 
he  did  n't  get  any  furwarder  ;  all  the  time  busy 
and  never  gettin'  ahead,  but  we  was  both  get- 
tin'  hungry.  Course  he  had  his  coat  on,  for 
when  he  's  ready  to  get  breakfast  he 's  ready  for 
church,  and  I  was  so  busy  watchin'  his  batter 
pail  that  I  did  n't  notice,  till  all  at  once  I  see 
there  wa'n't  a  ding  thing  left  on  the  table.  He 
hed  some  melted  butter  in  the  bottom  of  the 
pail,  and  he  grabbed  the  flour  can  and  struck  off 
in  the  woods.  Said 't  was  too  warm  by  the  fire. 
Then  I  see  his  pockets  bulgin'  with  eggs,  surup 
bottle,  milk  can,  bakin' powder  can  and  every- 
thing we  hed  to  cook  with.  I  follered  him,  for 
John  is  always  so  soft-like  you'd  never  'spicion 
him,  and,  besides,  he  said  he  liked  my  company, 
when  I  ast  him.  But  he  kep'  a-goin',  and  when 
I  sot  down  on  a  log  to  fill  my  pipe  he  went  out 
o'  sight.  I  thought  about  it  a  spell  and  then 
worked  back  to  camp,  and  there  he  was  a-bak- 
in'  cakes  !  " 

189 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

"  John,"  said  Colonel  Warren,  "  answer  me. 
What  do  you  put  in  the  pail  first,  when  you 
make  cakes  ?  " 

"  Nothin',"  answered  John.  "  You  have  to 
put  your  butter  on  to  melt  first ;  and  you  must 
be  careful  to  have  it  melt  slow,  so 's  not  to  burn. 
And  you  don't  need  to  use  the  freshest  butter 
you  've  got.  Old  butter  '11  do,  if  it  ain't  spoilt, 
and  it  won't  spoil  if  you  keep  it  in  the  spring, 
where  it 's  cool.  And  I  'm  a-thinkin',  Colo- 
nel, that  after  breakfast  George  and  I  could 
split  a  few  balsam  into  halves,  and  wall  up  the 
sides  of  the  spring,  —  sheet-pile  it,  so 's  to  keep 
the  drift  out  and  make  a  deeper  pool  to  dip 
from." 

"  John,  that  won't  do  ;  you  are  blinding  your 
trail.  We  were  speaking  of  cakes.  Twenty 
years  ago  we  had  a  talk  on  this  subject,  and  al- 
though I  do  not  think  you  intentionally  mis- 
led me,  nevertheless,  in  my  cockiness,  I  went 
home  firm  in  the  belief  that  I  knew  it  all.  I 
often  spoke  of  John's  cakes  when  our  cook 
190 


JOHN'S  CAKES 
sent  in  pale,  leathery  disks  that  stacked  up 
about  ten  to  the  inch  thick.  My  offer  to  go  in 
the  kitchen  and  instruct  the  cook  was  declined, 
first  by  Mrs.  Warren,  and  later  by  the  cook, 
when  I  insisted  on  making  the  offer  direct  to 
her.  Strangely  enough,  this  tended  to  make 
me  more  firm  in  the  belief  that  I  knew  how, 
and  I  spoke  to  the  neighbors  about  it,  and  be- 
came known  as  the  man  who  knew  how  to 
make  cakes  that  were  thick,  light,  sweet,  and 
healthy.  I  had  quoted  from  Dr.  Marston's 
essay  on  ripe  peaches  and  applied  it  to  my 
cakes  :  c  They  can  be  eaten  in  enormous  quan- 
tities, without  injury,  and  sometimes  with  pos-' 
itive  benefit.'  They  were  '  my  cakes  '  now ; 
they  were  John's  no  longer,  and  although  I  had 
never  made  them,  they  had  become  to  me  a 
pleasing  entity. 

"  There  was  to  be  a  children's  frolic,  ours  and 
the  neighbors',  in  our  kitchen  on  Christmas  af- 
ternoon, and  I  was  to  make  cakes  for  them. 
I  prepared  for  it  the  evening  before,  by  look- 

191 


THE   LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

ing  up  my  fishing  record  where  I  had  notes  of 
my  talk  with  you,  and  by  doing  some  hard 
thinking.     I  also  studied  the  cook-books  so  as 
to  learn  what  to  avoid,  and  I  tried  to  move 
around  the  kitchen  range  with  the  air  of  a  mas- 
ter.  This  is  important  in  making  cakes  as  well 
as  in  trying  a  case  before  a  jury,  and  I  still  think 
that  my  cakes  would  not  have  been  so  very  dif- 
ferent from  John's  cakes,  if  I  had  not  forgot- 
ten the  baking-powder.  The  children  ate  them 
until  their  mothers  enticed  them  away,  and  I 
hope  their  ailments  were  not  beyond  the  aver- 
age of  Christmas  nights. 
u  But,  John,  you  are  growing  old  ;  I  am  grow- 
ing old ;    and  we  alone  have  the  secret.     It 
should  not  die  with  us  :  let  us  develop  it  now. 
That  is,  you  explain  and  I  will  write." 
"  There  ain't  any  secret,  Colonel,  except  that 
the  butter  must  be  melted  careful,  and  I  '11  be 
pleased  to  show  how  I  do  it  —  some  time  —  but 
I  ain't  gifted  to  rightly  talk  so  you  could  write 
it  down." 
192 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

tc  I  think,  John,  that  in  a  decent  interval  after 
you  have  overcome  your  reluctance,  your  lan- 
guage will  not  be  unfit  for  publication.    After 
a  quarter  of  a  century  of  hiding  you  may  need 
a  minute  to  get  used  to  the  glare.     Begin  slow- 
ly, but  begin  now." 
"  You  melt  your  butter,"  said  John. 
"  How  much  butter  ?  " 

"About  the  size  of  an  egg,  and  you  stir  in  two 
eggs  and  a  teaspoonful  of  salt.  Then  you 
crumb  up  a  thick  slice  of  stale  bread,  but  not 
the  crust,  and  let  it  soak  in  the  pail  with  a  cup- 
ful of  water,  and  when  it 's  soaked  you  stir  in 
three  big  tablespoonfuls  of  condensed  milk  and 
two  tablespoonfuls  of  syrup  and  two  more  cup- 
fuls  of  water  and  your  butter,  eggs,  and  salt. 
Then  you  stir  in  flour,  about  a  pound,  until  the 
batter  is  nearly  as  thick  as  molasses.  Before 
you  bake,  stir  in  two  teaspoonfuls  of  baking- 
powder,  and  your  griddle  has  to  be  snappin'  hot 
and  kep'  so.  It 's  easy  ;  anybody  can  do  it," 

13  193 


THE   LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

said  John,  and  there  was  a  note  of  regret,  or 
relief,  in  his  voice  as  he  said  it. 
u  Easier,  I  sh'd  think,"  said  George,  "  to  do  it 
in  camp,  than  to  go  off  in  the  woods  and  work 
from  your  pockets.  Do  you  happen  to  know 
that  there  ain't  a  trout  in  camp  and  there  's  one 
left,  that  you  touched  up  in  the  spring-hole, 
Colonel  ?  " 

"Are  the  provisions  low  ? "  said  Colonel  War- 
ren. u  Strange  what  a  pleasing  stimulus  that 
condition  is  to  the  sportsman.  We  like  to  be- 
lieve that  we  are  unwilling  to  take  the  life  of 
a  game  animal  unless  it  is  necessary,  but  we 
work  hard  and  wait  long  to  make  it  necessary. 
We  really  like  to  kill,  and,  when  you  think  of 
it,  the  whole  science  of  hunting  and  fishing  is 
simply  that  of  killing  with  the  least  possible 
discomfort  and  danger,  limited  by  a  few  Mar- 
quis of  Queensbury  rules,  made  to  prevent 
too  fast  killing  and  to  prolong  the  agony.  Like 
assassins  we  lie  in  wait  for  a  deer,  or  steal  after 


194 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

him  like  a  sleuth  hound  and  shoot  the  harm- 
less, beautiful  creature  from  ambush.  We  con 
over  flies,  spoons,  and  gangs,  or  sit  by  baited 
buoys  and  study  the  habits  of  trout,  in  order  to 
bring  death  to  their  happy  homes  at  meal  time. 
Of  course  we  bar  nets,  traps,  and  salt  licks,and 
try  to  make  assassination  a  fine  art, but  it  is  bru- 
tal, and  I  am  inclined  to  think  the  instinct  for 
it  is  a  revulsion  from  high  civilization,  a  de- 
sire to  get  out  of  its  attenuated  atmosphere  into 
primitive  conditions,  and  work  with  our  hands 
for  food  and  shelter.  Clarence  King's  merry 
thesis, c  Civilization  is  a  Nervous  Disease,'  has 
truth  in  it,  although  this  brilliant  gentleman 
probably  did  not  care  a  rap  forthat  feature  when 
he  developed  it.  The  specific  for  this  disease  is 
to  wait  on  yourself,  to  hunt,  kill,  and  cook  your 
own  food,  and — " 

"  The  trout  of  which  we  was  speakin',  Colonel, 
is  good  medicine,  and  you  can't  be  always  on- 
lucky.  Best  cure  for  misfortune  is  to  marry 
agin." 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

"  I  am  not  forgetting  him,  George,"  said  Colo- 
nel Warren,  u  but  it  is  not  necessary  to  fish  all 
the  time,  and  early  morning  is  not  the  best 
time." 

"  Sure  it  is  n't,"  said  John,  "  and  if  you  can 
spare  us  for  an  hour,  George  and  I  could 
sheet-pile  the  spring  with  split  balsam  and  have 
things  more  comfortable." 
u  Could  fix  it  better  'n  that,"  said  George, "  all 
by  myself  in  less  time.  There  's  a  beech,  just 
beyond,  that  come  down  last  fall.  Of  course 
its  heart  has  rotted  out  by  this  time.  I  'd  split 
a  piece  out  of  it  and  make  a  trough,  and  hev 
runnin'  water  so  's  to  set  a  pail  and  let  it  fill 
while  I  'm  smokin'  my  pipe,  'stead  of  havin' 
to  stoop  and  dip.  It 's  queer  how  quick  beech 
rots  at  the  heart  and  keeps  sound  in  the  sap 
after  you  fell  it.  I  had  a  contract  to  cut  and 
haul  twenty  cord,  guaranteed  sound.  After 
I  'd  get  a  load  on  the  sled  I  dasn't  take  my  eye 
oft*  it  for  fear  it  'd  rot  while  I  was  drawin'  it. 
I  never  hurried  in  my  life,  except  then,  and 
196 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

when  I  got  the  last  load  in  I  hurried  the  man 
out  to  view  it  the  same  night." 
"This  is  all  new  tome,"  said  Hardy.  "The 
beech  is  such  a  buxom  tree.  It  seems  so  clean, 
wholesome,  sound,  and  healthy." 
"  And  yet '  it  rots  itself  in  ease  on  Lethe  wharf,' 
said  Colonel  Warren.  George  is  right,  but  of 
course  he  did  not  mean  to  include  the  variety 
blue  beech,  which  is  a  useful  timber  tree.  But 
we  are  dawdling  on  Lethe  wharf.  John  and 
George  might  fix  the  spring  while  we  tidy  up 
the  camp;  then  we  '11  put  up  lunches  and  part 
to  meet  again  toward  night." 
There  is  a  charm  in  all  phases  of  trout-fishing 
through  the  open  season  and  it  is  well  not  to  be 
bigoted,  although  we  may  have  strong  prefer- 
ences. After  the  ice  goes  out,  the  sleepy  trout 
is  not  at  his  best ;  he  is  yawning  and  recover- 
ing slowly  from  his  half  hibernation  ;  he  is  not 
lively  in  snow  water;  he  does  not  take  a  fly, 
or  anything  else  unless  it  is  drifted  near  to  him  ; 
he  nibbles  gingerly ;  he  won't  play  or  be 

197 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

played ;  he  is  not  fat,  but  he  is  good,  and  the 
fisherman  has  also  had  a  hard  winter,  and  is 
longing  to  wade  the  stream  and  to  eat  fried 
trout.  It  is  the  vulgarest  fishing,  but  perhaps 
it  is  the  most  fun.  In  May,  or  thereabouts, 
the  fly-fisherman  may  gorge  himself  with  sport, 
when  the  trout  go  on  the  shoals  in  the  ponds, 
or  on  the  rifts  in  the  river,  to  race  about  in 
swift  water  and  rest  in  shallow  pools.  They 
are  scouring  off  the  winter  coating,  we  com- 
monly say,  but  are  they  not,  rather,  looking  up 
their  old  haunts,  noting  the  changes,  and  sat- 
isfying themselves  that  water  still  runs  down 
hill,  just  as  all  of  us  like  to  do  in  the  spring  ? 
They  are  plenty  and  get-at-able.  The  brutal 
fisherman's  thirst  for  blood  may  be  quenched 
for  a  while,  and  the  gentle  sportsman  can  pick 
and  choose.  With  falling  water  and  warmer 
days  and  nights,  our  friends  in  the  stream  drift 
to  deep  water  and  the  pools  at  the  mouths  of 
spring  brooks,  alert  for  food  and  comfort  and 
wary  of  danger.  They  are  fat  and  at  their  best 
198 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

in  every  sense.  The  fisherman  needs  to  plant 
his  finest  darkened  leader  straight  and  quiver 
the  flies  gently,  to  deceive  the  trout,  which  sees 
with  eyes  that,  sleeping  or  waking,  never  seem 
to  close.  If  he  could  only  hear  and  smell,  the 
fly-rod  would  not  be  known  and  the  gill-net 
none  too  sure.  Everything  in  Nature  seems 
to  be  fixed  and  balanced  just  right. 
In  the  evening,  Hardy  and  John  were  in  camp 
and  settled,  with  supper  waiting  for  the  others 
to  come  in,  when  Colonel  Warren's  voice 
roared  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing  : 
"'The  air  nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends 
itself  unto  our  gentle  senses.  The  Heaven's 
breath  smells  wooingly  here  ! '  What  have 
you  got  for  supper,  John  ?  But  pause  for  a 
moment  while  I  unbuckle  the  cover  of  my 
pack-basket  and  George  scrapes  a  little  of  the 
bark  of  the  mountain  ash ;  and  cut  some 
sugar,  John,  and  bring  cold  water  from  the 
spring.  Whoop !  This  has  been  a  white  day 
and  we  '11  mark  it !  " 

199 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

"  Two-pound    ten-ounces,    full,"    whispered 
George,  as  he  laid  on  the  curled-birch  log  a 
beautiful  fish  for  Hardy  to  study  and  admire. 
"  And  you  just  ketched  him,"  said  John,  as  he 
noted  the  un  faded  colors. 
"  Jest  landed  him ;  ben  ketchin'  him  a  good 
while,"  said  George. 

u '  Swing  low,  sweet  chario-ot ;  comin'  for  to 
carry  me  home,'  "  sung  Colonel  Warren,  as  he 
bent  over  his  pack. 

Of  course,  the  true  fisherman  does  not  fish  for 
fish.  His  happiness  comes  from  the  outing 
and  the  chance  for  skill.  Good  luck  or  bad 
luck  must  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  but  there 
is  a  spontaneity  in  his  contentment  when  the 
big  fish  comes. 

"  If  I  'd  hed  my  way,"  said  George,  "  I  'd  V 
gone  this  mornin'  and  anchored  by  that  spring- 
hole  and  stayed  right  there,  and  taken  no 
chances,  so 's  to  be  ready  when  he  was  willin'  to 
come.  Of  course,  if  the  Colonel  had  'a'  let 
me,  I  'd  gone  ashore  and  dug  a  worm,  but  he 
200 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

would  n't  hear  to  it.  I  stood  the  boat  off  while 
he  drawed  his  flies  over  the  pool  twice,  and  then 
he  reeled  up  and  said  it  was  too  bright  and  the 
water  was  too  flat,  and  we  'd  leave  the  boat  and 
walk  up  to  the  Elbow  and  spend  the  mornin? 
fishin'  the  holes  comin'  back.  We  got  some 
good  ones  and  had  lunch  and  the  Colonel  took 
a  nap  in  the  shade,  while  I  set  and  smoked  and 
worried  about  the  big  one.  Come  four  o'clock 
and  I  could  n't  stan'  it,  so  I  built  a  punkey 
smudge,  two  or  three  steps  up  the  wind  from 
where  the  Colonel  was  sleepin.'  Lord,  how 
the  smoke  did  waller  over  him  ! 
"  Course  he  got  uneasy  and  set  up,  and  I  told 
him  how  they  used  to  throw  stones  in  a  spring- 
hole,  to  stir  up  the  trout  and  make  'em  run 
out  half-scared  and  come  back  livened  up  and 
habited  to  things  fallin'  among  'em. 
"  '  Stun  'em  out  !  '  says  I. 
u  '  Better  smoke  'em  out,'  says  he. 
"  Pretty  soon  he  said,  quiet  like,  as  if  it  jest 
happened  to  occur  to  him,  that  we  might  go 

201 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

to  the  boat  and  try  the  big  spring-hole  for  a 
minute  before  goin'  back  to  camp ;  but  he 
studied  his  fly-book  for  half  an  hour  before 
he  'd  move.  He  took  down  the  leader,  with 
three  flies  he  'd  been  usin',  and  put  on  the  fin- 
est brown  leader  I  ever  see,  and  only  one  fly, 
a  No.  8  Montreal.  Fish  took  it,  most  every 
cast,  some  good  ones,  but  he  let  most  of  'em 
go.  I  moved  the  boat  away,  while  he  changed 
to  a  little  black  hackle,  about  No.  14,  and  it 
was  beautiful  to  see  him  fire  that  little  punkey 
up  to  the  mouth  of  the  creek  and  draw  it  down 
at  the  edge  of  the  eddy.  And  it  went  out  o' 
sight,  jest  sucked  down,  and  the  Colonel  struck 
slow.  We  had  him;  and  the  Colonel  didn't 
say  a  word  for  half  an  hour,  except  once  he 
whispered :  '  You  know  where  the  log  is, 
George  !  '  " 

"  I  never  saw  prettier  handling  of  a  boat,"  said 
Colonel  Warren.  «  The  tackle  was,  I  think, 
rather  light  for  that  sized  trout.  We  had  to 
take  time  and  be  careful.  And  now,  my  boy, 
202 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

what  have  you  been  doing  ?  You  brought 
in  fish  for  supper,  and  I  see  you  have  some 
beauties  left,  nicely  packed  in  brakes  by  the 
spring." 

"John  and  I  concluded  to  fish  the  river  below 
again,"  said  Hardy,  "  and  to  walk  some  dis- 
tance down  the  bank  before  we  struck  in,  so 
as  to  get  to  the  pools  below.  The  fish  were 
not  biting  well,  but  it  was  very  beautiful,  and 
we  got  a  few  before  lunch  time.  John  carried 
my  camera,  and  I  have  got  —  I  hope  I  have 
got  —  some  good  pictures.  While  we  were 
eating  lunch,  John  told  me  that  we  were  within 
half  a  mile  of  Cross's  Pond ;  that  it  had  no  fish 
in  it,  but  of  course  I  wanted  to  see  it.  We 
went  there,  and  I  made  the  worst  break  that 
I  have  made  since  I  went  away  from  my  rod 
on  the  edge  of  the  burnt  ground.  I  left  my 
camera  at  the  river,  instead  of  taking  it  with 
me.  We  walked  part  way  around  the  pond 
and  sat  down,  and  pretty  soon  a  doe  came  in 
opposite,  perhaps  forty  rods.  She  came  with- 

203 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

out  a  sound,  slowly,  not  like  a  cat,  not  like  any- 
thing else  but  a  deer ;  just  slipped  in  a  quiet, 
smooth  glide,  and  drank  and  nibbled.  Of 
course  she  looked  around  and  studied  the  whole 
pond,  but  she  seemed  most  anxious  about  the 
direction  she  had  come  from.  She  kept  look- 
ing back." 

u  Course  I  knew  she  hed  a  fawn  back  in  the 
woods,  soon  as  I  see  her  actin'  that  way,"  said 
John,  "  and  then  I  thought  about  Mr.  Hardy's 
camera,  for  she  'd  come  to  stay,  and  would 
work  'round  nearer  to  us.  And  I  'd  left  the 
dinged  thing  at  the  river,  'though  I  might  have 
known  we  stood  to  see  deer,  any  time  of  day, 
at  Cross's  Pond.  Ef  I  hed  it  to  do  agin,  I 
would  n't  'a'  done  it." 

"  Yes,  John  said  that  she  was  probably  wor- 
rying about  a  fawn  back  in  the  woods,  and  di- 
rectly the  fawn  came  scampering  in.  It  stood 
stiff-legged  and  stared  at  its  mother  with  its 
head  turned  comically,  so  that  one  of  the  big 
ears  was  partly  over  the  other  one.  Then  it 
204 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

turned  down  the  beach,  kicked  up  its  dainty 
hind  legs,  took  a  few  high  leaps,  and  stopped 
stiff-legged  again.  It  bucked,  like  a  broncho, 
going  straight  up  into  the  air  and  lighting 
squarely  with  all  four  feet  close  together.  It 
was  a  continuous  performance,  a  little,  but  not 
much,  like  a  lamb's  gambols,  for  it  was  grace- 
ful. The  mother  waded  breast-deep  in  the 
water  for  grass-roots  and  lily-pads,  but  watch- 
ing the  fawn  and  seeming  to  coax  it.  Several 
times  it  put  its  toes  into  the  water  and  quickly 
sprang  back.  Directly  the  doe  went  in  deeper 
water,  and  swam  slowly  toward  us,  often  stop- 
ping for  a  tender  lily-pad  and  to  look  back  very 
earnestly  at  the  little  one. 
"  Suddenly,  with  a  rush,  the  fawn  sprang  into 
the  water,  tore  in  and  made  it  fly,  and  in  doing 
so,  fell  on  its  knees  and  wet  its  pretty  little  nose. 
It  was  plainly  frightened  at  what  it  had  done, 
but  its  mother  was  ahead,  so  it  kept  going.  It 
churned  and  pounded  the  water  with  its  fore 
feet,  and  soon  got  too  high  in  front  and  was 

205 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

frightened.  It  bleated,  calling  for  its  mother, 
and  when  she  swam  alongside,  the  little  rascal 
immediately  climbed  on  her  back  and  ducked 
her.  When  she  came  out  from  under,  she  cau- 
tiously kept  a  short  distance  away,  working 
toward  us,  but  with  her  head  over  her  shoul- 
der watching  the  fawn.  About  the  middle  of 
the  pond  the  fawn  got  in  trouble  again  ;  got 
too  high  in  front,  and  apparently  had  another 
panic.  The  doe  swam  near  him,  and  he  threw 
his  fore-feet  over  her  back  a  second  time  ;  but 
she  was  wary,  and  kept  her  head  above  water. 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  she  made  a  sound,  not 
a  bleat,  but  a  cooing  sound,  such  as  pigeons 
make,  and  it  seemed  to  soothe  the  excited  little 
fellow.  He  swam  more  steadily,  but  not  at 
all  smoothly,  for  he  appeared  to  get  his  legs 
tangled  and  lose  his  stroke.  Sometimes  his 
neck  was  high  out  of  water,  and  sometimes 
his  nose  was  buried,  but  he  finally  came  ashore, 
just  twenty-one  feet  from  where  I  was  sitting 
on  a  balsam  log.  I  paced  it  after  they  left,  but 
206 


JOHN'S    CAKES 

they  did  not  go  for  several  minutes.  The  fawn 
trembled  so  that  it  could  scarcely  stand,  while 
the  mother  licked  it  and  kept  making  the  coo- 
ing, crooning  sound.  It  was  a  very  tired,  meek- 
looking  fawn  that  slowly  followed  its  mother 
into  the  woods.  I  have  the  picture  in  my  mind. 
It  was  not  over-exposed  or  under-developed, 
and  it  will  never  fade,  but  I  can't  show  it  to 
any  one  else.  I  feel  as  John  does,  about  leav- 
ing the  camera :  If  I  had  it  to  do  over  again, 
I  would  n't  'a'  done  it." 

"I  understand,"  said  Colonel  Warren,  "that 
you  have  been  observing  two  specimens,  a 
mother  and  a  child,  Cervus  Virginiensis ;  and 
these  are  the  tender,  loving,  lovable  creatures 
men  breed  dogs  to  chase,  and  invent  deadly 
rapid-fire  guns  and  soft-nosed  explosive  bullets 
to  mangle  and  kill.  Gentle,  kindly  sportsmen 
are  we !  Let  us  go  to  bed." 


207 


THE  MINISTER 

"  r  I  "AHERE  is  no  one  thing," said  Hardy, 
u  that  has  so  impressed  me  in  my 
shortexperience  in  the  woods  as  has 
the  fact  that  a  man  needs  so  little  here.  No, 
that  is  not  quite  right ;  it  is  that  it  is  easy  to 
get  every  comfort  in  the  woods,  because  so 
much  has  already  been  done  by  the  Almighty 
and  is  ready  to  our  hand.  Each  thing  that 
grows  here  seems  to  be  adapted  to  the  needs  of 
other  living  things,  and  all  for  us.  The  Earth 
was  made  for  man,  and  there  is  a  God.  I  don't 
want  to  preach,  but  the  perfect  ordering  of  nat- 
ural things  fills  me  with  awe  and  has  made 
some  of  my  beliefs  certainties." 
"  I  never  happened  to  know  a  good  woods- 
man," said  Colonel  Warren,  "who  was  not  de- 
vout. He  is  liable  to  go  a  step  farther  and  be 
superstitious,  for,  however  long  and  minutely 
208 


THE    MINISTER 

he  studies  Nature,  he  finds  so  many  things  un- 
accountable that  he  is  apt  to  believe  in  super- 
natural intervention.  '  When  a  man 's  barkin',' 
says  Billy  Drew,  c  he  learns  what  the  moon 
kin  do.  In  the  full  o'  the  moon,  hemlock  bark 
'11  fall  off  if  you  look  at  it,  but  when  she 
changes,  the  bark  '11  squeeze  to  the  log  tighter 
'n  a  weasel.' 

"  I  almost  wish  I  could  be  superstitious,  it  is  so 
picturesque,  and  it  stops  a  man  plumply  before 
he  gets  beyond  his  depth  searching  for  reasons 
why.  I  don't  know  why  whirlwinds  come  to 
tear  great  swaths  and  make  desolate  windfalls 
among  the  beautiful  timber-trees;  or  why  briers 
grow  in  burnt  ground.  I  am  glad  to  know  why 
spruce  bark  cannot  usually  be  peeled  later  than 
July.  In  the  spring  the  sap  is  feeding  a  soft 
film  between  the  bark  and  the  wood  and  we  can 
easily  get  roofing  for  camps.  The  chemical 
process  of  changing  this  film  into  a  cylinder  of 
hard  fibre  is  an  extremely  interesting  and  beau- 
tiful one.  It  is  the  spawning  season  for  tim- 
14  209 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
her,  and  the  bark  is  again  cemented  to  the  new 
ring  of  wood. 

"I  am  glad  to  guess  why  hemlock,  spruce,  pine, 
and  balsam  do  not  shed  their  leaves  all  at  once, 
but  keep  a  stock  on  hand  alive  through  the 
year,  to  make  an  everlasting  cover  for  the  rocks; 
and  why  the  broad  leaves  of  birch,  beech,  maple, 
and  ash  are  shed  once  a  year  and  whirl  in  and 
work  together  to  make  rich  soil  on  the  hard- 
wood flats  and  slopes  ;  and  why  witch  hopple 
and  moose  maple  bestir  themselves  to  make 
cover  wherever  too  much  sunlight  gets  in  be- 
tween the  hard-wood  tops ;  and  why  water 
washes  soil  to  the  shallows  in  the  ponds  so 
that  lily-pads,  deer-grass,  mosses,  rushes,  and 
weeds  can  grow  for  food  for  deer  and  support 
for  the  insects  that  trout  feed  on  ;  but  facts, 
rather  than  guessed  reasons,  interest  the  woods- 
man. 

"  Black  flies  come  precisely  when  trout  are 
careless  as  they  go  on  the  rifts,  about  the  first 
of  June.    John  says  there  would  n't  be  a  trout 
210 


THE    MINISTER 

left  in  the  river  in  five  years,  if  it  were  not  for 
black  flies.  They  certainly  keep  a  good  many 
fishermen  out  of  the  woods,  and  often  compel 
a  man  to  go  ashore  and  heal  his  wounds  before 
his  basket  is  filled.  John  claims  that  they  like 
c  fish-hogs '  better  than  decent  men,  and  it  is 
likely  to  be  true  that  brutal  men,  who  like  to 
hurt  and  kill,  are  most  afraid  of  pain. 
"  Notice,  too,  how  well  the  punkeys  do  their 
work  when  the  black  flies  tire  and  turn  gray  in 
July  and  lose  their  power  for  good.  The  little 
midget  thrives  in  the  shade;  he  can't  do  good 
work  in  the  sunlight,  or  in  the  night,  or  at  any 
time  in  the  year  except  in  the  spring-hole  sea- 
son. In  the  cool  of  the  evening,  when  trout  are 
at  supper,  ten  thousand  millions  of  these  infer- 
nal gnats,  the  size  of  a  needle-point, 'lost  to 
sight,  to  memory  dear,'  too  small  to  be  seen  be- 
fore they  are  felt,  establish  themselves  about  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  apart  all  over  the  body,  and 
each  one  digs  a  hole.  One  bite  does  not  hurt 
much,  but  the  cumulative  effect  is  a  frenzy,  and 

211 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

he  is  a  stolid  man  who  can  clean  out  a  spring- 
hole  in  the  edge  of  the  evening  when  the  pun- 
keys  are  defending  the  trout  there.  It  used  to 
be  an  Indian  torture,  and  it  is  said  that  a  man, 
stripped  and  tied  to  a  tree  in  a  punkey  hole,  soon 
loses  his  mind,  and  dies  in  one  evening.  It 
seems  to  me  believable. 

"  Comfort  means  exactly  the  same  here  as  it 
does  at  home,  provision  for  a  lot  of  small  ne- 
cessities and  luxuries  that  we  have  become  ac- 
customed to,  and  the  good  woodsman  gets  them 
with  the  least  possible  amount  of  work.  There 
are  defective  persons  whose  idea  of  camping  is 
a  squalid,  unrighteous,  and  not  sober  life,  which 
they  call c  roughing  it.'  When  you  learn  how, 
it  is  always  possible  to  have  dry  clothes  in  your 
pack,  a  tight  roof,  a  good  fire,  the  best  food  and 
the  best  cooking  in  the  world,  good  society,  and 
plenty  of  water  for  bathing.  What  more  do 
you  want,  unless  it  is  a  library  ?  Nothing,  I 
think,  and  books  in  the  running  brooks  serve 
for  the  present. 

212 


THE  MINISTER 
u  There  are  others  who  over-provide,  but  they 
err  on  the  safe  side  and  are  on  the  right  track 
if  they  are  ready  to  learn.  They  bring  a  rain 
coat,  while  a  rain  cape  is  better  and  weighs  only 
a  quarter  as  much  ;  they  bring  wading-boots, 
when  an  extra  pair  of  stockings  is  better,  and 
the  boots  weigh  five  or  ten  pounds,  a  consid- 
erable straw  to  break  the  carrier's  back  ;  a 
heavy  toilet-case,  when  a  pocket  comb  and  the 
few  necessaries  suffice  and  weigh  less.  A  man 
needs  something  like  fifteen  pounds  of  personal 
belongings  for  a  few  days  in  camp,  but  when 
he  does  not  know,  it  is  better  to  take  fifty 
pounds  than  to  be  uncomfortable. 
u  I  invited  a  friend  to  meet  me  in  camp  last 
year,  and  as  he  was  inexperienced  in  fly-fish- 
ing and  I  was  over-supplied  with  tackle,  I  told 
him  to  bring  only  a  comb  and  a  tooth-brush  and 
I  would  do  the  rest.  I  walked  down  the  trail  to 
meet  him,  and  observed  that,  in  order  to  dis- 
encumber himself  so  as  to  shake  hands  with  me, 
he  carefully  transferred  his  comb  from  his  right 

213 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE    WOODS 

hand  to  his  left  hand,  which  was  also  holding 
the  tooth-brush.  It  was  a  warm  day  and  as 
we  walked  in  my  friend  took  off  his  cap.  He 
was  bald-headed,  extremely  so,  and  of  course 
I  always  knew  it,  but  forgot  it  when  I  sent  th-e 
facetious  messagewhich  he  had  taken  seriously. 
I  was  at  first  mortified,  for  he  was  interroga- 
tive in  the  matter  of  the  comb,  often  so  dur- 
ing the  first  day  in  camp.  '  He  said  he  did  not 
own  one  and  had  not  owned  one  for  years,  but 
as  he  knew  nothing  of  the  woods  he  had  pro- 
vided himself  with  a  strong  one  and  was  ex- 
tremely anxious  to  know  its  uses  in  woodcraft. 
I  at  last  succeeded  in  convincing  him  that  it  was 
desirable,  even  necessary,  to  comb  out  his  flies 
after  using  them,  until  they  were  thoroughly 
dry.  I  quite  enjoyed  watching  him  at  work, 
evenings,  with  a  tool  to  which  he  had  been  long 
unused,  for  I  disliked  to  admit  that  I  had  caused 
him  to  make  the  error  of  over-providing.  Still, 
bringing  too  much  is  a  good  fault  j  he  might  have 
needed  a  comb." 
214 


THE    MINISTER 
u  But,"  said  Hardy,  "  the  woods  supply  every- 
thing.   If  he  had  needed  a  comb  I  have  no  doubt 
John  could  have  made  one." 
"  I  made  one  once,"  said  John,  "  out  of  horn- 
beam, worked  it  out  careful  and  polished  it  with 
scourin'  rush,  the  kind  we  use    for  cleanin' 
knives,  and  it  lasted  me  a  hull  winter." 
"  They  come  ready-made  here,"  said  George. 
"  A  trout's  back-bone  is  good  enough  for  me, 
unless  there 's  comp'ny  comin',  and  then  I  spear 
a  sucker." 

u  I  have  been  puzzled,"  said  Hardy,  "  to  un- 
derstand how  you  put  up  in  this  camp  the  row 
of  wooden  pins  that  are  about  an  inch  thick 
and  six  or  eight  inches  long  ;  those  that  we  hang 
coats,  hats,and  pack-baskets  on,  inside  the  camp 
and  put  our  rods  on,  outside  the  camp  under 
the  eaves.  I  can  see  that  no  auger  holes  were 
bored  for  them." 

"  That,"  said  Colonel  Warren,  "  is  one  of  the 
most  important  of  the  small  conveniences  in 
camp,  and  the  easiest  to  provide.  Cut  beech, 

215 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE    WOODS 

or  maple  saplings  in  lengths  three  inches  longer 
then  you  want  them  to  project.  Sharpen  one 
end  to  a  long,  tapering  wedge.  Make  a  nice 
job  of  this  sharpening  and  the  pins  can  easily  be 
driven  three  inches  in  any  soft-wood  log.  Neat- 
ness and  good  order  are  prime  necessities  for 
comfortable  camping,  and  with  plenty  of  these 
wall-pins  it  is  easy  to  be  tidy.  You  are  right, 
my  boy,  in  concluding  that  the  woods  supply 
everything,  that  is,  everything  in  reason.  Ask 
now  for  anything  you  want  that  might  fairly 
be  needed,  andyou  shall  have  it.  Of  course  you 
will  not  ask  for  effeminate  luxuries,  or  means 
of  idle  dissipation." 

"  The  Colonel,"  said  George, "  don't  want  his 
stumps  meddled  with,  Mr.  Hardy." 
"  I  think,"  said  Hardy,  after  a  pause,  "  that  if 
I  wanted  to  make  a  raft  I  should  be  very  much 
bothered  to  do  it  without  either  nails  or  strong 
rope,  and,  if  you  please,  I  accept  your  challenge 
and  ask  John  to  get  some." 
"  The  Colonel  just  told  you,"  said  John, "  how 
216 


THE  MINISTER 
to  make  tree-nails.  Hard  wood,  sharpened, 
drives  easy  in  the  spruce  or  balsam  logs  you  '11 
probably  make  your  raft  of,  but  the  trouble  is 
they're  apt  to  split  the  small  poles  you  use  for 
crossbars  to  hold  the  logs  together,  and  your 
raft  is  likely  to  spread  in  swift  water.  Better 
use  good  rope,  and  that 's  almost  ready  made. 
I  '11  get  you  a  length  of  strong  rope  and  then 
you  '11  know  where  it 's  kep',  always  ready  and 
waitin'  for  you." 

John  went  to  a  bunch  of  second-growth  birches 
and  showed  Hardy  how  these  slender,  tall  sap- 
lings were  running  a  race  for  their  lives.  The 
lower  branches  were  feeble  twigs ;  all  the  en- 
ergy was  devoted  to  gaining  height,  each  try- 
ing to  over-top  and  capture  the  sunlight  and  kill 
the  others.  One  of  them,  only,  could  possibly 
survive  to  maturity,  and  when  the  fittest  wins 
his  race  the  others  near-by  must  slowly  die.  Mr. 
Pinchot  classes  the  birch  as  a  tolerant  tree,  and 
he  knows,  but  I  never  happened  to  see  a  young 
birch  very  near  to  an  old  one,  although  young 

217 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

beeches,  maples,  and  spruces  seem  to  love  that 
protection. 

John  narrowed  the  competition  of  the  birches 
by  choosing  a  sapling  an  inch  thick  at  the  butt, 
and  about  twenty  feet  high.  He  did  not  cut 
it  down  ;  he  bent  it  towards  him  as  he  trimmed 
all  its  twigs  and  branches,and  then  began  slowly 
twisting  its  tender  top.  It  was  easy  to  twist 
the  recent  growth,  partially  separating  the  fibres 
and  making  a  strong,  pliable  rope.  When  he 
reached  tougher  wood  he  held  the  sapling  firmly 
in  his  left  hand,  while,  with  his  right,  he  bent 
and  turned  as  a  crank  the  part  above.  As  he 
so  worked  down  toward  the  butt  it  became 
more  and  more  difficult  to  twist  and  separate 
the  fibres. 

Hardy  remarked  :  u  I  think  I  see  your  finish, 
John." 

"  Not  yet,  not  till  I  get  to  the  ground.    There 's 
sixteen  foot  of  rope  in  this  saplin'." 
John  cut  a  short  stick,  killing  off  another  one 
of  the  competitors,  and  ingeniously  wrapped 
218 


THE    MINISTER 

and  tangled  it  in  the  kinked  rope  already  made. 
This  made  a  powerful  twisting-bar,  and,  as  he 
turned  it,  it  was  beautiful  to  see  the  line  of  burst- 
ing bark  and  rending  grains  slowly  travel  down 
toward  the  root.  As  the  sapling  writhed  under 
pressure  it  exuded  sweet  sap  and  the  air  was 
filled  with  the  pungent  odor  which  reminded 
Hardy  of  a  familiar  sign  in  a  country  tavern  : 
ct  Birch  beer  tastes  queer  —  sold  here."  As  the 
bar  was  twisted,  the  maltreated  sapling  kinked 
in  curious  folds  and  wound  itself  on  the  bar,  so 
that,  when  it  was  finally  cut  off  at  the  root,  it 
remained  a  queer  mass  of  curves,  clinging  to 
the  weapon  that  had  killed  it. 
u  You  'd  never  think  that  was  sixteen  foot  of 
good  rope,"  said  John, cc  but  unkink  it  from  the 
bar  and  you  '11  find  it 's  strong  enough  for  a  har- 
ness trace." 

"  I  '11  never  unkink  it,"  said  Hardy.    "  It  is  a 
fine  wall  ornament  and  I  shall  keep  it  as  it  is, 
for  it  means  something." 
"  You  can't  always  tell  what  you  '11  need,"  said 

219 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

George,  "  specially  when  you  start  in  a  hurry. 
You  remember  when  the  minister  was  here  five 
years  ago  ?  We  put  out  the  dogs  on  a  Satur- 
day and  he  missed  the  only  shot  he  had,  and 
come  Sunday,  of  course  he  would  n't  let  any 
huntin'  be  done.  Drawin'  pay  for  Sundays  and 
all,  I  did  n't  mind  settin'  still,  but  I  kep'  thinkin' 
of  one  of  my  dogs  that  had  n't  come  in,  and 
'lowed  I  'd  step  out  in  the  woods  a  piece  and 
look  for  him.  I  had  an  idee  of  strikin'  the  camp 
up  North  Elby  way,  for  there  was  a  party  there 
runnin'  dogs  and  my  dog  might  'a '  led  into  it. 
They  was  no  need  of  carryin'  lunch,  for  I 
knowed  one  of  the  guides  there  and  of  course 
he  'd  ask  me  to  stay  to  dinner  and  I  'd  get  a 
change  of  feed.  But  when  the  minister  see 
me  bucklin'  on  my  belt  and  chain,  he  was  all  for 
goin'  along.  I  hed  calklated  on  goin'  alone 
and  bein'  more  sure  of  gettin'  ast  to  dinner,  and 
perhaps  a  little  mountain  ash,  and  havin'  every- 
thing comfortable,  but  the  minister  spoke  about 
the '  virgin  wilderness '  and  the '  holy  temple  on 
220 


THE    MINISTER 

the  Sabbath  day '  and  lit  out.  Nothin'  could 
stop  him. 

"  We  made  the  camp  about  one  o'clock,  jest  as 
I  figured  to,  but  the  party  was  gone.  They'd 
left  that  mornin',  for  the  ashes  was  hot,  and  they 
were  good  campers,  for  they  'd  burnt  all  the  food 
that  was  left  over,  so  's  not  to  attract  mice  and 
vermin  ;  but  it  made  it  bad  for  us.  The  only 
thing  I  found  was  a  little  pork  grease,  and  I 
gethered  a  hatful  of  mushrooms  and  fried  'em, 
but  the  minister  spleened  agin  it  ;  called  'em 
toadstools. 

"  Then  we  struck  off  about  four  miles  to  Indian 
Clearin',  where  I  'd  heard  shootin'  the  day  be- 
fore, and  perhaps  my  dog  had  pulled  in  there, 
and  perhaps  whoever  was  there  would  ask  us 
to  eat  with  'em.  I  never  see  a  worse-lookin' 
party  than  we  found.  They  said  no  strange  dog 
had  come  in,  and  of  course  I  did  n't  believe  'em 
and  began  lookin'  'round,  careless  like,  but  they 
was  unpleasant  and  seemed  to  want  to  get  rid 
of  us.  So  I  looked  for  the  minister,  to  take 

221 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

him  away  and  start  for  home,  and  there  he  was 
standin'near  the  cookin'-fire.  His  nostrils  flick- 
ered as  he  smelled  the  coffee,  and  when  he 
looked  at  the  patridges,  all  split  and  flatted  out 
ready  to  brile,  he  jest  drilled ;  but  they  never 
even  ast  him  if  he  had  a  meouth  on  him." 
"  It 's  queer,"  said  John,  "  how  many  minis- 
ters do  come  to  these  woods.  I  've  seen  a  good 
many  in  my  time,more  'n  a  dozen,  I  reckon,  and 
gen'lly  good  ones.  It 's  probably  the  best  of 
'em  that  comes,  but  I  don't  know.  I  have  n't 
seen  one  outside  since  I  was  a  boy.  One  Sep- 
tember I  was  a  few  miles  above  here  on  the 
river  with  my  boat.  It  was  about  two  o'clock 
and  I  had  stepped  back  on  the  hard-wood  flat 
to  where  the  Colonel  had  a  cache  under  the  big 
maple  by  the  hemlock  stub.  There  's  a  spring 
brook  there  and  I  was  cookin'  a  meal  of  vittels, 
when  I  heard  two  rifle  shots  in  the  line  of  my 
boat,  and  of  course  I  stepped  out  to  see  what 
was  goin'  on.  Two  men  were  restin'  on  the 
bank  opposite.  They  said  they  'd  seen  my  boat, 

222 


THE  MINISTER 
and  noticed  it  was  fresh  grounded  on  the  bank, 
and  thought  they  'd  find  the  owner  of  it  by  fir- 
in'  a  couple  of  shots,  so  's  to  ask  on  which  side 
the  trail  led  down  the  river. 
"  I  brought  'em  over  and  did  n't  ask  questions, 
'though  it  was  puzzlin'  to  locate  'em.  Course 
I  noticed  they  stepped  in  a  boat  right  and  knew 
how  to  take  care  of  themselves,  'though  they 
were  strange  to  this  country.  Their  shoes  was 
good,but  thestrings  had  been  brokeand  knotted. 
Their  pants  was  tore  in  a  good  many  places, 
but  mended  good,  except  a  few  places  fixed  with 
safety  pins,  so  it  was  pretty  sure  they  'd  come 
from  Indian  River  way,  through  the  big  burnt 
ground.  They  were  gritty  and  did  n't  ask  for 
help,  but  I  could  see  things  wa'n't  altogether 
pleasant,  so  I  asked  'em  to  take  a  meal  with 
me. 

"  Seemed  as  if  I  could  hear  their  teeth  click 
when  they  accepted,  so  I  stepped  across  to  the 
Colonel's  maple  for  some  more  provisions.  I 
dug  out  his  bottle  and  put  it  with  a  tin  cup  by 

223 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

the  spring  where  they  was  washin'  up.  Then 
I  could  see  they  was  all  right,  for  they  took 
only  about  an  ounce  apiece.  You  can  find  out 
a  good  deal  about  a  man  by  the  way  he  treats 
whiskey.  They  were  tender  of  it  and  showed 
they  took  it  only  when  't  was  needed. 
"  After  dinner  the  older  man  told  me  he  used 
to  come  to  the  woods  when  he  was  young. 
He  'd  been  a  missionary  to  Turkey  or  some- 
where way  off,  most  all  his  life,  and,  since  he  'd 
come  back,  wanted  to  see  the  woods  again. 
They  'd  started  in  to  walk  across,  guidin'  by 
a  map,  and  of  course  they  'd  had  some  troubles, 
but  he  made  light  of 'em.  When  they  'd  come 
to  wide  water  that  they  could  n't  get  'round, 
they  'd  made  a  little  raft  for  their  clothes  and 
packs,  and  swum  and  pushed  across.  They 
were  sandy  and  good,  but  they  had  been  out 
six  days,  and  provisions  was  low.  The  old  man 
asked  if  there  was  a  camp  where  they  could 
stay  over  Sunday,  so  I  told  'em  all  about  the 
Colonel  and  his  camp,  and  how  glad  he  'd  be, 
224 


THE    MINISTER 

when  he  come  up  in  the  spring,  to  hear  from 
me  that  his  camp  had  been  of  use  to  people 
who  loved  the  woods.  I  told  'em  they  was 
all  right,  and  would  be  well  fixed  after  about 
two  hours'  tramp ;  and  that 's  where  I  made  a 
break,  for,  as  it  turned  out,  it  was  a  good  while 
before  they  saw  Wilderness  camp. 
u  The  weather  had  changed  while  we  was  talk- 
in',  and  I  'd  been  careless,  not  noticin'.  It  was 
growin'  black,  and  south  of  west  I  could  see 
a  cloud  risin'  that  looked  like  a  bag  of  bluin'. 
I  struck  off  through  the  woods  fast  as  I  could 
make  it,  for  we  had  five  miles  to  go.  The 
ministers  kep'  up  well.  We  could  hear  roarin' 
and  crashin'  ahead  of  us,  and  we  had  n't  gone 
fur  before  the  tops  near  us  begun  to  whistle 
and  moan,  and  I  knew  it  would  n't  be  long  be- 
fore they  'd  begin  twistin'  and  breakin'.  We 
was  on  a  ridge,  and  I  wanted  to  get  down 
where  some  high  rocks  would  shelter  us,  but 
it  was  black  dark,  except  when  it  was  lightnin', 
which  was  most  of  the  time.  When  I  saw  a 
15  225 


THE    LOVERS    OF   THE   WOODS 

birch,  about  two  foot  through,  that  had  fell 
acrost  a  little  gully,  I  dodged  down  by  it  and 
called  to  the  ministers  to  come  in  and  make 
themselves  small.  They  crawled  in  careful, 
without  a  word.  The  old  one  was  the  coolest 
man  I  ever  see  in  these  woods.  When  a  hem- 
lock come  down  across  our  birch  and  broke  in 
two,  it  lightened  and  I  could  see  his  face.  It 
was  shiny,  and  he  was  smilin'. 
"  A  flurry  of  rain  come  and  stopped,  and  the 
wind  stopped,  and  everything  was  dead  for  a 
minute,  before  the  whirlwind  struck  us.  I 
never  heard  such  a  noise  since  we  bombarded 
Fort  Fisher  —  roarin',  hissin',  and  snappin', 
with  thud,  thud,  thud,  as  the  big  trunks  struck 
the  ground.  It  was  a  long  time  passin',  and  we 
were  just  about  the  middle  of  the  path,  where 
there  was  n't  a  big  tree  left  standin'.  We  never 
got  a  scratch,  but  our  birch  was  pretty  well 
covered  with  tops.  Then  the  rain  come  and 
it  poured  stiddy  and  was  cold.  I  got  dry  curl 
off  the  birch  and  started  a  little  fire  and  fed  it 
226 


THE  MINISTER 
with  branches  until  it  made  light  enough  for 
me  to  work  with  the  minister's  little  two-pound 
axe.  It  was  slow,  but  I  done  it.  The  evenin' 
was  gone  and  't  was  late  night  when  I  got  a 
fire  the  rain  could  n't  drown.  It  lit  up  the 
windfall  and  we  could  see  what  had  happened. 
"  It  's  wonderful  how  comfortable  you  can  be 
a-standin'  straight  up  in  a  pourin'  rain  before 
a  hot  fire.  The  old  man  asked  me  about  the 
war,  and  I  told  him  about  our  defeat  at  Drury's 
Bluff,  where  I  was  taken  prisoner.  I  must  'a' 
made  it  a  long  story,  for  when  I  stopped,  the 
young  man  turned  the  face  of  his  watch  to  the 
fire  and  said  it  was  Sunday.  I  asked  the  old 
minister  if  he  would  n't  preach  me  a  sermon. 
I  had  n't  heard  one  since  I  was  a  boy.  He 
seemed  to  forget  about  the  rain,  for  he  stepped 
to  his  pack  and  took  out  two  leather-covered 
books,  but  he  covered  'em  up  again  and  stood 
on  the  far  side  of  the  fire,  a-facin'  me  acrost  it. 
Then  he  said,  'Hymn  number  four  hundred 
and  fourteen,'  and  the  young  man  sung  with 
him:  227 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

"  '  Guide  me,  O  Thou  great  Jehovah, 
Pilgrim  through  this  barren  land  j 
I  am  weak,  but  Thou  art  mighty  : 
Hold  me  with  Thy  powerful  hand.' 

"  I  never  heard  such  music,  and  did  n't  know 
folks  could  sing  so.  They  sung  all  the  verses, 
standin'  there  in  the  windfall,  and  the  rain 
comin'  all  the  while.  When  they  begun  the 
last  verse, — 

"  '  When  I  tread  the  verge  of  Jordan, 
Bid  my  anxious  fears  subside,' 

I  found  I  was  cryin',  not  because  I  felt  bad, 
but  I  seemed  to  be  a  little  child  again,  and  it 
was  natural.     Then  he  said  : 
"  c  The  Lord  is  in  His  holy  temple :  Let  all  the 
earth  keep  silence  before  Him.' 
"He  repeated  Scripture  word  for  word,  and 
said  prayers,  sometimes  kneelin'  and   some- 
times standin'.  I  knelt  when  he  did,  and  when 
he  come  to  the  Lord's  prayer  I  remembered 
it  and  cried  again,  for  I  was  a  little  child. 
"  Before  he  begun  his  sermon,  he  said  : 
228 


THE    MINISTER 

" c  For  we  must  needs  die,  and  are  as  water 
spilt  on  the  ground,  which  cannot  be  gathered 
up  again ;  neither  doth  God  respect  any  per- 
son ;  yet  doth  He  devise  means  that  His  ban- 
ished be  not  expelled  from  Him.' 
"  Then  he  stood,  a-lookin'  at  me  acrost  the 
fire,  and  preached.  It  was  all  to  me,  me  all 
alone,  and  I  could  n't  take  my  eyes  off  him. 
I  can  remember  a  good  deal  of  what  he  said, 
and  I  '11  never  forget  it.  The  fire  lit  up  the 
downed  tops,  and  he  stood  with  his  back  to 
the  felled  hemlock,  preachin'  a  sermon  to  me 
through  the  hot  flame.  He  glowed  and  shone 
and  seemed  to  rise  up  tall  in  the  firelight.  He 
must  V  talked  for  hours,  but  I  did  n't  know 
it  until  he  said,  '  Let  us  pray,'  and  we  knelt 
down. 

"  When  I  stood  up  and  turned  away  from  the 
fire,  the  rain  had  stopped,  and  it  was  sun-up. 
He  was  a  good  man  !  " 


229 


"HE   CAME   UNTO   HIS  OWN" 

IT  was  October  in  the  woods  and  Hardy's 
swinging  steps  were  covering  the  miles  of 
the  long  trail  to  Wilderness  camp.  The 
October  maples  had  shone  and  glowed  for 
weeks  before  the  month  that  gave  them  their 
name,  but  now  they  and  the  evergreens  were 
infrequent  variants  from  the  prevailing  yellow, 
and  this  only  when  the  wind  was  still.  With 
each  swirl  the  air  was  filled  with  yellow  swarms 
of  rippling  confetti,  as  the  leaves  left  the  hard- 
wood trees  and  floated  in  the  open  spaces.  Shin- 
ing through  them,  the  light  was  dulled  and 
softened  and  colored,  and  the  pale-yellow  mon- 
otone was  continued  by  the  carpeting  of  the 
ground.  The  dainty  chemists  had  spent  their 
lives  making  sound  wood  out  of  sunlight,  and, 
faithful  after  death,  they  seemed  to  try  to  stay 
in  the  upper  air  and  spray  their  lovely  color  on 
the  landscape. 
230 


"HE    CAME    UNTO    HIS    OWN" 

Hardy  enjoyed  his  steps  and  would  not  hurry 

them  through  the  glowing  forest,  even  though 

• 
he  had  before  him  the  meeting  again  with  his 

dearest  friends.  As  he  neared  them,  he  went 
more  slowly,  for  as  he  thought  of  them  he  be- 
gan to  think  of  himself —  a  thing  he  had  long 
and  happily  forgotten  to  do.  He  had  worked 
as  he  had  never  worked  before  and  had  exu- 
berantly enjoyed  every  day  with  John.  There  is 
never  an  idle  time  about  a  hatchery  for  the  man 
who  loves  it.  All  the  while  there  is  something 
to  think  about,  something  to  study  and  to  do, 
and  in  this  zealous  work  and  learning  Hardy 
had  forgotten  himself,  the  morbid  man  of  a  year 
ago  who  warped  every  thought  with  miserable 
consciousness.  His  life  had  a  new  birth,  but 
his  old  hopes  and  ambitions  were  coming  back 
to  him  as  he  drew  along  to  the  camp  where  the 
Colonel  had  finally  enticed  Mrs.  Warren  to 
come  for  a  fall  outing. 

At  Wilderness  camp  things  were  different.  It 
was  the  Colonel's  camp-fire  conversation  motto 

231 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

that,  "ladies  are  always  present,"  and  even 
when  he  camped  alone  with  George  in  the  open 
air  he  dressed  for  dinner  to  the  extent  that  his 
outfit  permitted.  George  had  an  altruistic  re- 
gard for  the  Colonel's  habits  ;  he  did  not 
emulate  them.  In  the  spring  he  had  made  as- 
surances of  the  tried  value  of  the  soft  hat  given 
to  him  in  the  fall  :  "  I  've  slep'  in  it  every  night. 
It  ain't  ben  off  my  head  for  a  minute  sence  you 
went  out."  Nevertheless,  there  was  a  change 
in  the  near-by  landscape  that  the  camp  had  never 
before  known.  There  was  a  newly  made  sleep- 
ing lodge  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  and  on 
the  flattened  log  near  it  were  neatly  arranged 
articles  new  to  the  woods  and  not  essential  to 
the  Colonel's  comfort. 

Mrs.  Warren  was  sitting  alone  before  the 
smouldering  day-fire  as  Hardy  came  in,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  dear  old  lady  could 
never  have  been  so  beautiful  at  any  time  or  in 
any  other  surroundings.  Whenever  Hardy  felt 
conscious  that  she  was  dearer  to  him  than  any 
232 


"HE   CAME    UNTO    HIS    OWN" 

other  woman  on  earth,  he  did  not  formulate 
the  exception.  He  had  a  lurking  sense  of  it, 
but  the  other  one  was  younger  and  it  was  dif- 
ferent —  and  hopeless. 

Down  by  the  landing  Mary  Warren  was  lin- 
gering to  watch  the  clouds  of  yellow  leaves  that 
were  being  drawn  into  the  valley  of  the  stream 
and  swept  down  it  like  flocks  of  migrating  birds. 
She  had  been  hunting  for  bear.  She  felt  hu- 
manely incapable  of  killing  a  deer,  unless  it 
might  be  one  who  wanted  to  hook  people,  and 
she  preferred  to  hunt  for  bear,  very  savage  ones. 
She  always  intended  to  like  practising  with  her 
rifle  at  a  target,  and  she  had  often  planned  for 
a  daily  hour  of  serious  banging  until  she  could 
overcome  the  habit  of  pulling  to  the  right,  and 
become  a  dead  shot.  Meantime,  this  accom- 
plishment must  of  course  be  unnecessary  for 
close  conflict  with  the  desperate  animal  she 
was  seeking.  She  knew  she  had  courage,  but 
it  did  not  occur  to  her  that  she  could  not  climb 
a  tree.  George  encouraged  her  and  offered  ad- 

233 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
vice  only  as  to  keeping  still  and  going  slow, 
very  slow  indeed.  He  was  willing  to  sit  on  a 
log  and  wait  for  her  any  length  of  time,  pro- 
vided only  that  it  was  between  meals.  There 
was  no  chance  to  talk  during  the  still  hunt, 
and  she  had  half  purposely  stopped  here  be- 
fore going  back  to  camp  in  order  to  ask  George 
a  few  questions,  if  she  could  arrive  at  them 
naturally  and  easily,  and  lead  him  to  tell  of 
winter-living  in  the  woods.  She  was  fond  of 
information,  general  information,  and  as  she 
looked  at  the  stream  before  her  she  felt  satis- 
faction in  thinking  that  she  knew  why  water 
runs  down  hill. 

She  had  not  told  herself,  definitely,  why  she 
wanted  to  know  howa  manwho  had  been  gently 
nurtured  could  live  and  enjoy  living  in  the 
woods  at  all  seasons.  She  wanted  like  infor- 
mation as  to  a  woman,  any  young  woman  who 
was  strong  and  skilful  and  not  afraid  of  bear ; 
who  was  prepared  for  great  dangers  and  hard- 
ships from  which  she  could  come  with  renown 
234 


"HE    CAME    UNTO    HIS    OWN' 

—  unhurt  and  comfortable.  If  she  could  get 
these  two  items  of  information,  there  was  no 
doubt  that  she  would  be  able  to  put  them  to- 
gether and  form  an  opinion  as  to  whether  such 
a  man  and  such  a  woman  could  have  a  glori- 
ous and  comfortable  career  in  the  wilderness 
—  but  she  had  not  seriously  considered  think 
ing  it  out  as  far  as  this.  It  was  not  difficult 
to  direct  George's  attention  to  winter  occupa- 
tions, but  it  was  less  easy  to  keep  him  from 
wandering  to  incidents  which  to  him  were  more 
unusual. 

"  Hatchery  is  too  stiddy  for  me  and  there's  more 
to  trappin'.  When  I  was  a  boy  I  got  more 
money  —  I  thought  it  was  more  money  —  than 
I  ever  hed  sence  then,  for  two  mink  pelt,  and 
I  'lowed  I  'd  walk  out  and  have  a  ride  on  the 
cars.  It  was  evenin'  when  a  train  come  along 
and  the  conductor  was  the  shiniest  man  I  ever 
see.  He  looked  like  a  new-blazed  spruce ;  a 
gold  watch  chain,  a  brass  puncher  and  his  left 
arm  through  the  bale  of  a  brass  lantern.  I  ast 

235 


THE  LOVERS  OF  THE  WOODS 
him  how  fur  he  'd  carry  me  for  a  dollar ;  and 
he  said,  seein'  it  was  me,  he  'd  take  me  to  the 
end  of  his  run.  I  handed  him  a  silver  dollar 
and  he  flipped  it  up  to  the  top  of  the  car, 
and  ketched  it  as  it  come  back  and  put  it  in  his 
left-hand  pocket.  Of  course  I  was  watchin' 
and  wonderin',  but  I  was  n't  askin'  questions. 
Byme-by  he  come  back  and  set  down  and  ast 
me  everything  he  could  think  of,  and  advised 
me  always  to  be  honest.  He  said  he  made  that 
his  motto,  and  that  he  always  dealt  square  with 
the  company  and  gave 'em  a  fair  chance.  Says 
he :  '  Ef  that  dollar  had  ketched  on  the  bell  cord 
and  stuck,  it  would  hev  belonged  to  the  com- 
pany. I  always  give  'em  a  fair  chance.' ' 
"  But,  George,  how  do  you  catch  minks  ?  " 
"  I  generally  don't.  When  they  smell  trap  bait 
they  come  up,  but  not  clost,  and  think  it  over, 
and  most  always  they  can  see  or  smell  a  mark 
or  a  place  that  tells  'em  a  man  has  been  there, 
and  then  they  lose  interest.  Best  way  is  not 
to  touch  the  ground  or  anything  near  where  you 
236 


"HE  CAME  UNTO  HIS  OWN" 
set  your  trap.  Wade  up  in  the  stream  and 
reach  over,  and  if  you  want  to  do  it  jest  right, 
you'll  always  hev  your  hands  greased  with 
skunk-ile." 

"  I  do  not  seem  to  be  growing  fond  of  trap- 
ping," said  Mary.  "  What  else  is  there  to  do 
in  the  winter  ?  " 

"  Set  clost  to  the  stove,"  said  George,  "  and 
it 's  handiest  to  hev  your  bed  in  the  kitchen,  and 
to  hev  your  wood  corded  up  in  it,  wherever 
there  's  room  for  it." 

u  Dear  me  !  "  said  Mary.  "  It  is  time  for  us 
to  go  back  to  camp." 

It  seems  incredible,  but  it  is  true,  that  it  was 
Mrs.  Warren  who  discovered  for  Hardy  that 
his  ailment  was  gone  and  that  his  world  was 
again  waiting  for  him  to  conquer  it.  Of  course 
it  was  known  to  John,  who  had  noted  day  by 
day  every  step  in  the  young  man's  recovery  of 
his  voice,  of  his  increasing  strength  of  mind 
and  body  and  of  his  self-forgetfulness,  that  he 
was,  in  John's  language, "  a  well  man,"  but  he 

237 


THE    LOVERS    OF    THE   WOODS 

feared  to  tell  him  or  in  any  way  lead  him  to  think 
of  himself.  For  this  reason  he  put  a  mighty 
curb  upon  himself  and  gradually  stopped  the 
boiling  of  herbs  and  the  grating  of  roots  and 
the  making  of  things  that  were  "  good  for  "  his 
patient.  The  habit  of  a  lifetime  is  not  easily 
broken,  and  John  made  and  threw  away  a  good 
many  nostrums,  but  it  was  now  more  than  a 
month  since  he  had  dosed  Hardy. 
It  was  dark  when  Colonel  Warren  came  into 
camp,  but  his  coming  rilled  the  whole  timber 
opening  with  glow  and  sound  and  presence.  He 
had  left  a  buck  hung  up  in  the  woods  ;  he  loved 
his  wife ;  he  loved  his  daughter  Mary  ;  and  he 
roared  his  appreciation  of  their  being  here  with 
him,  in  the  centre  of  the  wilderness.  When 
he  greeted  Hardy  and  knew  of  his  recovery,  the 
trees  swayed  and  the  earth  trembled  at  his  ex- 
plosions of  joy,  until  he  partly  disappeared  in 
his  mysterious  pack  to  recover  something  fit  to 
celebrate  this  great  day  of  this  great  year  in  the 
life  of  the  finest  fellow  that  ever  walked  a  trail ! 
238 


"HE   CAME   UNTO    HIS    OWN" 

By  the  camp  fire  that  night,  charming  as  it  was, 
Hardy  could  not  stay.  All  who  were  dearest 
to  him  were  there,  but  he  needed  to  be  alone. 
He  looked  back  to  the  years  of  growing  anxi- 
ety, to  the  year  of  despair  and  of  recovery.  He 
had  learned  in  the  woods  from  the  works  of  God 
the  lessons  of  self-help.  His  ship  had  found  it- 
self, and  he  seemed  to  walk  on  air  as  he  went 
away  from  the  fire  down  the  silent  trail. 


239 


YB  74147 


